


Of Long-Denied Emotions

by WorldsUnreal



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Angst, Daddy Kink, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorldsUnreal/pseuds/WorldsUnreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~Revised~<br/>Something inside Bruce screamed. It was a voice, whispering into his ear. And that silent voice wanted so desperately. Wanted the light Dick brought with him to never leave.</p><p>Very silently, the whispers told him that, for once, he had made the right decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Storms and Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! For an introduction I would like to say that this story will be quite long. Not sure how long, but it will be long. I will try to fit the plot into the current DCU without changing anything too important. So, this will not be set in an alternate universe. I will also try to make the characters as accurate as possible, but forgive me when I get carried away sometimes!

  **Chapter One**

 

**Of Storms and Warmth**

 

It was one of those nights again. Lightning flashed in a blinding burst of white before the loud crack of thunder rippled through the Manor’s antiquated walls. Rain poured in heavy torrents as wind howled into the abyss of the night. They hadn't even bothered with patrol. The streets of Gotham, usually teeming with crime and violence, were empty. The Gotham police force had nothing to report, and there was nothing Batman and his boy wonder could do.

But to be very honest, they would much rather stay in the warm comfort of the Manor than to go patrolling in such a storm.

Bruce was settled for bed, and for once in a very long time, he was allowed the luxury of sleep. But he couldn't. Instincts honed by years of spending his nights fighting crime kept him on edge. He was constantly agitated, even when he assured himself there was nothing he could do that night.

The only other time he could remember sleeping well was half a year ago, when he first took the orphaned circus boy in. Of course, he had still spent countless hours giving the boy his training and following leads that could bring them to Zucco. And yet, those were the times he had been able to sleep peacefully; without being startled awake at odd hours in the morning by the same, recurring nightmare.

He wasn't sure what made the nightmares stop. Maybe it was because he knew that what he was doing could spare the boy from years of anguish and hate. Maybe it was because he knew that he  _could._  

That, first and foremost, was why he let the boy fight alongside him. Because Bruce understood. He understood the pain and injustice of it all.

He could still remember the night they finally captured Zucco as clearly as if it had only happened the night before. 

"It's good to see you content with your acomplishments for a change, Master Bruce." Alfred had said when they came back in the wee hours of the morning. Then, quieter, almost whispering, with a gloved hand gently placed on an armored shoulder, he added. "It's high time you finally accepted."

Dick was all smiles and Bruce, well… Bruce gave Dick a pat on the back and smiled slightly at how happy the boy looked. He knew then that he had made the right choice. Dick had needed this.

But as he thought back now, it wasn't exactly Zucco that made Dick's smile as bright as it was. He could still recall the way Dick’s blue eyes looked up at him with such- such-

He couldn't put a word to what he saw in Dick's eyes that night. He never could. 

Later on that same night, Dick came back down to the cave, already in his pajamas. With bare feet, he silently padded through the cold and damp cave to where Batman was sitting. The boy told him that he wanted to stay by Batman's side as Robin; that he would never allow anything bad happen to anyone else ever again.

Bruce’s first thought was to tell him no. The life he had chosen was filled with hatred and violence. He would never, ever, allow the innocent young boy share his terrible burden. He told Dick that. Dick looked almost pained.

For a moment, Bruce cursed himself. Told himself he had been stupid, naive. He should never have brought the boy into this. Should never have given him the option. Should never have taken him home to the Manor. He had been selfish. And stupid. It was a mistake.

He hated himself just a little bit more for it.

"But Bruce- Batman, it's not a burden! I can't let you do this alone…. Not anymore." Dick's blue eyes were wide in the gloom of the cave, and his small hands looked so delicate as he tentatively placed them on the Bat’s armored arm. Bruce remained silent for a while, thinking about that night he swore above his parents' grave that, for the rest of his life, he would fight against the force that took them away from him. The oath came from a mind plagued with pain and despair. Bruce could not bring himself to imagine the bright and innocent boy treading through the same path he was, even after everything. 

Dick was not like him. And he prayed to whatever gods may be that he never would be.

It was a mistake. 

But he had heard the silent sobs at night. He had heard the choked cries as Dick startled awake from troubled dreams. He had seen the pain and yearning in Dick’s eyes whenever he thought nobody was looking.

So how could he ever forget how the boy smiled when he gave him a new home in the Manor? When he gave the boy the mask and cape?

Dick needed this. He _knew_ Dick needed it. But that didn’t make it right.

"Dick, I care for you. The life I have chosen for myself is not a happy one. Go to school, graduate, find a woman special to you and marry her… Have a real life, Dick. This is not for you." Something inside Bruce screamed. It was a voice, whispering into his ear. And that silent voice wanted so desperately. Wanted the light Dick brought with him to never leave.

Very silently, the whispers told him that, for once, he had made the right decision. 

"It's not always like that. It- I-" Dick looked down at his bare feet for a moment, then up again. "I want to do this. I need this as much as you did- and still do." Dick's blue eyes were glimmering with the strength of conviction, and Bruce could not help but stare into them. For a moment the dark knight of Gotham, the man who was always three steps ahead of everyone and anyone, was rendered speechless by those blue depths of Dick's eyes.

By Dick's beautiful innocence.

How could he ever taint him? How could he ever allow  _anything_ to corrupt this boy?

After a pause, a smile lit up Dick's face and he added, "Our parents will be proud of us, I'm sure of that."

Hearing that, Bruce enveloped the young boy in a tight embrace. For the first time in a very long time, he allowed himself to be happy. Allowed himself to hope that, one day, Dick would forget and leave it all behind. That one day this boy would finally be happy again.

He could make that happen. He could try. 

Yes. He could try.

Dick hugged Bruce back just as tightly. He felt so small and fragile underneath the Bat's thick armor. In that instant, Bruce knew that he would always, always keep the boy safe. He would never let anything hurt Dick. Not again. Not ever again would he let anyone get hurt. 

Never again.

"Yes, Robin, they will be very proud." Bruce whispered, barely audible. The young boy sighed happily before he fell asleep, content and happy, in Bruce's arms. Bruce held him like that for a while. This young boy, only 11, had somehow managed to find happiness in what was left of his world. Something Bruce himself had never quite been able to do. 

Bruce had carried him off to bed, and told Alfred not to wake him up the following morning. Alfred complied, but not without telling Bruce that, he too, should probably sleep a well-earned rest. Bruce did. And that was the night he slept peacefully, dreaming dreams filled with Dick's brilliant smile and the way his laughter echoed through the Manor's desolate halls.

But that had been months ago, this night wasn’t the same. Bruce was staring, completely awake, at his ceiling. He wasn’t looking. He was elsewhere.

He allowed the memories to linger, before another flash of lightning brought him back to reality.

He sighed, and thought about the room across the hall. Dick was probably asleep by now. He found himself wondering about the boy’s dreams. Silently, he prayed they would be happy dreams.

Just then, a particularly loud crack of thunder ripped through the night sky. Bruce couldn't help being reminded of the night it all happened. The way his father tried his best to protect his family, and failed. The hollow, deranged eyes of the man with the gun. The dark crimson of his parent’s blood as he watched their lives ebb away.

He felt a familiar twinge of pain twist in his chest and sighed once more.

He also remembered, in painful clarity, the look on Dick's face when the trapeze snapped. The raw horror when his parents fell. Farther and farther away from the safety of the platform, all the way to the hard and unforgiving ground.

There was a storm that night in the circus, too.

He had watched Dick's parents fall, and he watched Dick's desperation as he tried reaching for them. They both knew what it meant when their bodies would hit the floor. Yes, he knew.

But he still hadn't done anything. He had just wacthed, like everybody else. Dazed. Helpless.

He had failed Dick then. He could have seen it coming. He could have prevented all the tears Dick had shed if he had just paid more attention. If he hadn't been so  _ignorant,_ he could have-

Suddenly, the door to his bedroom opened. Distracted as Bruce was by his thoughts, he didn't hear the footsteps that came before the small whisper of a voice.

"Bruce?" It was Dick. He sounded small and… hesitant. Bruce immediately sat up, expecting trouble.

"Dick, what's wrong? Did the commissioner call?" Bruce looked over at Dick and saw that, at least, he wasn't bleeding or hurt.

"Nothing's wrong, you would have known long before I have if there was." Dick gave a slight smile that quickly disappeared. "Bruce, it's just that." Dick swallowed, trying to find the right words. "It's raining really hard and there's thunder and lightning and- you see, Bruce….."

Worried now, Bruce approached his ward and knelt in front of him. He searched the boy’s blue eyes, they had always betrayed how he truly felt. But this time, Dick quickly turned his face towards the floor. 

"What is it Dick?" Bruce tried as gently as he could manage. He wasn’t good at this, but for Dick, he would try. For Dick he would always try.

"I- I can't sleep." Dick admitted sheepishly, and looked at his hands in embarrassment. Bruce can now see that Dick's face was tinged pink, and that his cheeks were damp. It finally came to Bruce that Dick had been crying.

He placed his thumb lightly on  the boy's soft cheek to wipe away the tears. His hand was big on the boy's delicate face, and his finger was rough on the boy's tender skin. Dick looked up at the touch. His eyes were wet, and even in the dim of his bedroom, Bruce could see that he had been crying for quite a while. 

Not for the first time, Bruce felt guilt settle deep inside his gut.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Bruce tried again, desperately looking for a way to make the sadness in the boy's eyes go away. He hated seeing Dick so distraught. Dick was meant to be happy.

Dick tried to say something, but he couldn’t seem to say it out loud. Just then, another bolt of lightning flashed right beside Bruce's room and Dick almost jumped at the loud crackle of thunder that followed. His blue eyes were wide, and his lower lip trembled slightly.

"Bruce, I-I'm- scared." Dick's voiced cracked, obviously trying to hold back more tears. Bruce, among all people, knew that the boy wonder would not cry unless something very terrible happened. Bruce wrapped his arms around the shivering frame in front of him and gently stroked his back reassuringly. He murmured soothingly until the boy seemed to calm down a little.

"Bruce, can I… can I sleep here tonight?" Dick asked in a tiny voice, sounding so bizarre coming from the otherwise fearless Robin. Before Bruce could say anything, Dick piped in again with a new note of urgency. "My mother used to be there during storms like these. She- she told me she'll always stay. She told me she'll always be there- but- she’s- she’s-" The end of the sentence was intruded by a violent sob. Bruce could feel warm wet tears against the back of his neck as more and more sobs wrecked through the boy.

"It's alright Dick. I'm here." Bruce lifted the boy up into his arms and carried him over to his bed. Gently, he settled the boy into the warmth of his blankets. Dick immediately curled up into them, trying to make himself as small as possible from the crashing thunder outside.

When the boy started shivering again, Bruce pressed him tightly against himself.

Dick had his face buried in Bruce's chest as his sobs slowly died down, all the while Bruce slowly smoothed the boy's hair and whispered comforting nothings. He just wished he could promise Dick so much more.

After the boy's breath finally evened out, he looked up at Bruce with shimmering blue eyes.

"It's alright Dick." Bruce said again for the thousandth time that night as he gently brushed a stray tousle of hair from the boy's face. Dick's troubled eyes finally cleared and his pink lips curled into the sweetest smile yet- Bruce thought he felt something inside him melt a little.

"Thanks Bruce, you're the best." Dick said in a half-whisper and closed his eyes to drift into long-awaited sleep, still curled up in Bruce's arms.

Bruce said nothing for a while. Watching Dick's chest rise and fall steadily as he drifted into peaceful dreams.

The smile was still ghosting on his lips, the blush still gave his cheeks a pinkish shade. Bruce stroked the boy's dark curls, his eyes never leaving him. Bruce felt his senses dull slowly as he settled into sleep, strangely at peace with his ward curled up at his chest.

He knew then, that he did manage to find happiness in what was left of his world after all.

"Thank you Dick, for staying with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think of the first chapter? Please review and tell me what you think, and what you would like to see in the future. I can't continue without knowing what you guys want, now could I? I'll update as soon as I know what to write about. Thanks a lot!
> 
> F.Y.I. you can also read this story on fanfiction.net in case something happens to this one, same title and username (but with a space between the words) :)


	2. Of Dinners and Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who bookmarked and gave this story kudos! This chapter will be where the plot really begins. So... enjoy!

   **Chapter Two**

 

**Of Dinners and Uncertainty**

 

The next morning was greeted by a reluctant dawn. The sun hid behind a persistent layer of grey clouds and for some reason, the morning birds have failed to awaken. Bruce opened his eyes cautiously to the dim light filtering into his bedroom; instinct telling him that something was amiss. He had this dreading feeling telling him that he had his guard down for too long. Was he drugged? Poison Ivy? As the fuzziness of sleep gradually resided, he recalled that he didn't even bother with patrol last night.

Stirring farther from sleep, he noticed that a soft cheek was pressed into his neck. And that his face was buried in sweet-smelling black curls. Last night's events came back to him all too fast, and he sighed in understanding. Bruce had subconsciously assumed that last night was nothing but a dream. One of those rare, beautiful dreams he sometimes had. Dreams that he must always wake up from, and then it would hurt just a little bit more to stare into his bleak, empty room.

But as he felt the whisper of breath stir the skin underneath his ear and a small lithe form pressed into his chest, he knew that this time he wasn't just dreaming.

He pulled Dick’s small frame tighter into his, the young boy muttered something sleepily in response but didn't wake. When Dick was asleep like this, Bruce could almost pretend that nothing was wrong with the world. He could pretend the pain didn’t exist.

Bruce lifted his hand gingerly to push a stray strand of hair behind Dick's ear, the boy sighed softly at the touch and nuzzled his face into Bruce's neck.

In the solace of his room, Bruce allowed himself a little smile.

When the first of the morning birds finally began their song, Dick stirred and opened his eyes sleepily. For a brief moment, Dick's breath hitched in realization that he was not in his bedroom.

"Good morning, Dick." Bruce said in a low voice that could have qualified as nothing but the rustle of leaves in the morning breeze, hadn't the room been so quiet. Dick moved back a little to stare at Bruce with wide baby-blue eyes, the same color of the small flowers that grew on the outskirts of Gotham. But Dick's blue was softer and inexplicably more radiant at the same time. Bruce couldn't help but notice how prettily they were framed by a thick frizz of dark lashes. He quickly pushed that thought to the back of his mind and recomposed himself.

"How are you?" This made Dick's cheeks flush a little and he quickly averted his eyes away from Bruce.

"I'm alright now." Dick muttered without looking at the older man. Bruce searched the boy’s eyes for a moment longer. Only when the boy’s cheeks darkened even more did Bruce move on.

"How about some breakfast? I think Alfred said he wanted to make his special muffins today." Bruce knew how much Dick loved Alfred's muffins, not that anyone would give up a chance to eat them. The initial turmoil in Dick's features softened into a wide grin, the boy was more than willing to be distracted by muffins. The usual, happy and sunny Dick Grayson was back.

"You bet I do." Dick made a move to get dressed, only to realize his room (and his clothes) was in the other side of the manor. Alfred disapproved of seeing him walk around the manor in pajamas.  _It's distasteful and inappropriate,_ he would say and Dick was really not in the mood to get an earful of etiquette and manners _._ For a second, Dick considered the possibility of climbing out of Bruce's window and then climb back into his own bedroom, but that thought was soon interrupted by a knock on the door followed by a polite: "Master Bruce?"

"What is it, Alfred?" Bruce said as he moved his arms away from Dick and sat up. Dick went on to stretch luxuriously as he blinked the last remains of sleep from his eyes.

"Master Bruce, I'm afraid that I can't seem to locate young Master Dick." Alfred said through the door, a slight note of worry tainting his heavy English accent.

"Don't worry, Alfred. Dick is here." Bruce's tone was nonchalant as he walked over to the door and opened it. Alfred stole a quick glance at Dick who was still yawning sleepily on Bruce's bed before returning his attention back to his older charge standing before him.

"I see, thank you sir." Alfred paused for a professional moment, then turned to face Dick and continued. "Master Dick, would you fancy some breakfast? I have prepared muffins by my great-aunt's homemade recipe." Alfred's voice was neutral and as formal as ever, but Dick could see amusement in his eyes.

"You know I do, Al." Dick grinned at Alfred, who smiled back knowingly.

"Then I must insist that you shower and change before coming down, Master Dick." As if in defeat, Dick sighed and slowly made his way to the door, pouting all the way. Alfred definitely knew how to get what he wanted, although Dick still thought using muffins as bait was a little unfair. Bruce ruffled Dick's dark hair on his way out. Dick only huffed a little, but then proceeded to flash him with one of his lopsided smirks.

"I'll see you downstairs, Master Bruce." Alfred retorted. Bruce was going to say something back, but a twinkle in Alfred's eyes made him stumble on his thoughts. It was the same odd twinkle Alfred gave him when Bruce first mentioned taking Dick in as his official ward. He couldn't understand it then, and even more so now. It was a sly, knowing twinkle that made Bruce a little more than uncomfortable. He wasn't used to knowing less than the people around him. Bruce always knew everything of anything. But Alfred's thoughts were always an entirely different story.

"Sure, Alfred." Bruce managed to recover a split second afterward, no one would ever have noticed the delay. At least no one but Alfred.

"Come, Master Dick." Alfred made an ushering gesture at Dick, and the young boy followed obediently. Bruce frowned slightly in frustration. Alfred knew something, something he obviously didn't. There was no hope in forcing it out of the old butler, so the only other thing to do was to push it to the back of his mind and wait.

 

* * *

 

The day was quite uneventful. Dick went to school, Bruce went to meetings with undoubtedly rich and important people, and Alfred stayed at the Manor to do whatever he usually did.

Gotham city was too quiet. Bruce was beginning to suspect that something major was being planned, or worse, that Arkham’s insane were contemplating the city’s termination. But then again, Bruce was known to be quite paranoid; or rather,  _cautious_ as he preferred to call it himself _._

Bruce was skimming over some files in his lavishly designed office when his phone rang. Even before he picked it up, Bruce knew it was Alfred. The only people who had Bruce's private phone number were Alfred, Dick and Fox. Judging by the time, Dick would be at school and Fox would be in a real-estate conference, which left only Alfred. 

Alfred very rarely called him during that time of the day. Could there have been news from the commissioner? Or from Dick?

"Master Bruce, I do hope I am not interrupting anything?" Alfred's voice came through the phone's speakers.

"Not at all. What is it?"

"As you are most likely aware, there seems to be no apparent criminal activity around Gotham as of late. At least nothing the local police force couldn’t handle without needing the assistance of a certain.. law enforcer. From there, may I be so bold to ask if you could spare some time to join us for dinner tonight? I have taken the liberty to prepare a proper dinner for both Master Dick and yourself."

"Of course, Alfred. I would love to. I think I can even make it back before six." Bruce was a little surprised by this. Alfred didn't call to invite him to dinner every other day. Bruce was quite certain there wasn't anything special that day, and it wasn't like Alfred to act on whims.

"What's the occasion?" Bruce asked in a trained tone. The words didn't betray Bruce's burning curiosity, but still had the intensity to push anyone to an answer. But Alfred knew Bruce all too well.

"My apologies, sir, but I believe that one does not need a specific occasion to enjoy a decent family dinner. Besides, everbody needs a chance to unwind oneself every once in a while." Alfred was unrelenting when he insisted and Bruce saw no reason to argue.

"Alright, I'll be there."

"Very good. Master Dick will be more than pleased to know that you can join dinner for a change. Good day, Master Bruce."

"Thank you, Alfred" Bruce narrowed his eyes in thought as he hung up. It was true that Bruce didn't join his young ward at dinner very often in the past six months, but Dick had always told him that spending time with him as Robin was way more fun anyway. And from what Alfred had been telling him, it seemed that Dick never really bothered to eat what Alfred would call _decent_ dinners. Most of the time, Dick would settle for a couple of sandwiches before returning to whatever he was doing earlier. 

A thought suddenly struck Bruce. Dick was alone most of the time, and when he was with Bruce it was usually spent in dark alleys or dusty warehouses. 

Bruce sighed. He may be an expert at a dozen foreign languages, another dozen martial arts, criminology and everything else he would ever need to fight crime, but he was at a complete loss when it came to... more personal matters.

Alfred had often reprimanded him for his inability to settle down. Whenever the gossip pages were filled with news over Bruce Wayne’s break up yet again, Alfred would sigh wearily, but even Alfred had given up the notion of pointing it out. And during parties, when Bruce had two or more women draped across him, from a distance, Alfred would give him looks.

Bruce had always tried to avoid intimacy. He knew well enough about the danger he could place anyone into. He remembered all too well what nearly happened to Julie Madison. He couldn’t afford a social life. He had to do this alone.

In his defense, he wasn’t being selfish.

But then it came back to Dick. Had he been selfish then?

Was he neglecting Dick?

Bruce remembered how utterly alone he used to feel in the beginning. All alone in the darkness of reality, crying cries that would never be heard. Calling for mom and dad who would never answer again. Desperate to hear voices that are gone forever.

His mother's tender and loving gaze. His father's deep and gentle encouragements. Never again.

The world had suddenly seemed too bright, too loud, too harsh for someone like him. For someone so lost in a sea of hurt and pain and despair and darkness. The night he saw his parents bleeding on the cold hard ground, the world shifted right before his eyes. He realized that it was all just a lie in the face of a painful truth. A lie to keep the demons away. A lie that failed nonetheless. The demons were there, always had been. Always would be.

The world as he knew it was gone. Ghosts and lost souls haunting, claiming every dark corner. Voices whispering, demanding a second chance they would never get. Eyes watching, waiting for him to fall. The world was cold. The world was loathsome. The world was heartless.

The world did not care.

Everybody suffered and everybody hated.

The world was ugly.

 _He_ suffered and  _he_  hated _._

But Dick… Young, brilliant Dick. Dick with his bright blue eyes. Dick with his sweet smiles. Dick with his warm, generous hugs. Dick with his unwavering trust.

Dick was beautiful in his own, unassuming way.

This world was no place for him.

Dick would get hurt one day. And when it would happen, Bruce would not be there. He would be helpless. Again.

Dick would get hurt, Bruce knew that, but the worst thing was that he also knew, deep down, that when Dick would get hurt, it would be his fault.

 

* * *

 

 

Late that afternoon, Dick came home to be greeted by Alfred. School had been boring. He had to pretend to listen to block-headed teachers telling him things he already knew. The school Bruce had placed him in might have been the best all-boys-school in Gotham, but it was still nothing compared to the training sessions he had with Batman. Dick had to force himself to stay awake every passing minute. The only reason why he still attended school was probably for the sake of public formality.

What would people think if they hear that the Prince of Gotham’s ward got less than the very best? As if they actually knew what was best for him. As if they knew _anything_ about him. Dick still remembered all the diplomatic business Bruce had to get through to prevent _them_ from making a big deal about his adoption.

It was always _they_ and _them_ judging and making everyone’s lives miserable.

 Dick was frowning as he walked in.

"Long day at school, Master Dick?" Alfred asked kindly, taking his school bag from him.

"God, Alfred," Dick made an exaggerated sigh, "you can't even begin to guess how many times I almost fell asleep today. I swear, Al, those teachers know as much about their subjects as the kid next door does."

"With all due respect, young sir, we do not have any immediate neighbors." Alfred gave Dick a smug look, and Dick couldn't help but giggle. He felt much better already.

"Sure, Al, you always know best anyway. By the way, what's that I smell?" Dick sniffed at the air as a strong waft of something smelling terribly good drifted in his direction. Dick was suddenly reminded of his mother back in the circus and he wondered why.

Sniffing again, Dick looked over at Alfred. Despite everything, the butler looked very pleased with himself.

"What you are smelling, young sir, is tonight's dinner. I have taken special care to prepare a dish usually enjoyed in travelling circuses. I presume you are familiar with this particular one?" Dick sniffed at the scent again, and  _damn_. Alfred's good. 

This was exactly what the cook at Haly’s circus made during festivals and events. 

It was relatively simple compared to the food Dick had recently been eating at Bruce’s parties. It consisted of baked chicken submerged in a thick, saucy gravy. 

Dick smiled as warm memories flooded over him. It was his 8th birthday again, celebrated in a warm beach town on the East Coast. Then it was his parent’s wedding anniversary, and then the circus’ grand opening in Manhattan. It was a big night for all of them. Manhattan was a big city and the first one they had been in for a couple of years.

"Alfred! This is exactly what we had during big events back in the circus! How- How did you ever know?” Alfred just cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I have my ways, Master Dick. More importantly, I'll be happy to inform you that Master Bruce might even be able to join us for dinner tonight."

"That's great, Al." Dick beamed up at him, it was not very often that Bruce ate his dinner (or any of his meals, frankly) at home.

"Indeed. Now, if you'll be so kind as to excuse me, I have dinner to prepare."

"Sure Al." Dick flashed him another grin before the butler dipped his head slightly and went off.

It was just a little before five and there was still plenty of time before dinner. Dick was definitely not in the mood for homework or any school-related work. It had been a slow and lazy day, what Dick needed was some time in the manor’s gym.

The gym Bruce had installed for him had everything an acrobat could ever ask for and more. The walls of the gym were covered with bullet-proof mirrors and the floor was matted with shock-absorbing matting. Bruce had told Dick that these mats would still prevent him from getting hurt even if he fell from a three-story building. Apparently, their armor used the same technology as the mats did. Courtesy to Wayne Technology, of course. 

Aside from that, the gym also had a total of two trapezes, two pairs of parallel bars, three balance beams, a myriad of other equipment and even a large uneven structure used for parkour practice. Dick knew that Bruce had more than enough money to buy him anything he could ever want ( _hell,_ Bruce even had enough money to compensate Batman's existence), but he still felt a little embarrassed whenever he saw this gym.

Dick was relatively new to the world of politics and money, and he was still far from being comfortable around it. As a circus boy, the only pricey gifts Dick got were from his fans, and even then, the most expensive gift he had ever gotten was one of those exquisite flower bouquets. 

Dick marveled at the gym again. It was big, and very fancy. 

He began stretching out of habit; his pliant body bending and arching gracefully. Standing completely straight on just one hand, he delicately arched his back to lower his feet unto the ground. He stayed like that for a second before he swiftly coiled back to perform a perfect somersault. As he felt his palms touch the matting, braced and somersaulted backwards. Dick smiled as he landed back on both his feet, feeling a familiar thrill flood him. His father had thought him that move when he was six. It had been, and still was, one of his favorites. 

There were many other floor exercises Dick could go through, but what he really needed at that moment was to be 20 feet above the ground, hanging from a trapeze.

There, high up in the air, was where he belonged. Looking down at the blur of the crowd, wind rushing beneath his feet as he jumped, hands outstretched for the next bar, constantly in motion. Whenever Dick was flying, he was free, he was alive. He was, _Dick Grayson._

Dick looked down at the morbidly empty gym and sighed. The cheering crowd was no longer there and the platform waiting ahead of him was empty. His mom or dad were no longer waiting for him on the other side, ready to catch him.

It suddenly felt terribly wrong to be up there all alone without the rest of his team. It felt wrong to be there without his mom and dad. He missed the circus, he missed performing, he missed being a Flying Grayson. But that didn’t really matter much. What he really missed was being with his parents.

Dick closed his eyes and felt the edge of the platform with his toes. With a shuddering intake of breath, he jumped. Swinging and gliding once more; but alone nonetheless. Whenever Dick turned to grab the next trapeze, he expected to see a hand reaching out. But, of course, it wasn't there.

Despite the constant reminder at the back of his mind that something was missing, Dick felt a familiar giddy rush. There was an odd sort of comfort in the way he could almost pretend he was back at Haly’s, practicing on his own on a warm summer day. Everything was exactly the same, the rush of wind in his face, the firmness of the bar underneath his hands, the adrenaline pumping in his veins.

Dick couldn't help being happy whenever he was doing what he was born to do. To fly.

"I remember the first time I saw you up there." A deep voice startled Dick the moment he had his feet safely on the platform again. He turned to see Bruce standing in the corner of the gym. He was just standing there, almost completely motionless. Despite the ornate suit Bruce was wearing, he looked as intimidating as he would be in cape and cowl.

How long had he been there? From this far away Dick couldn't make out Bruce's expression, but he could still feel the intensity of those deep midnight-blue eyes on him.

His voice was hard, but Dick thought he could hear just the slightest trace of a smile there. Dick grinned back.

"Well, the Graysons  _are_ known to fly, you know." Dick climbed off the platform and jumped when he was about five feet off the ground. He landed elegantly on both his hands and proceeded to do a couple of flips. Dick stopped right in front of Bruce, still grinning. He did enjoy showing off to Bruce. Besides, he was used to an entire tent full of cheering people. Although on second thought, having the Batman himself watch him was not an entirely unappealing idea.

"So I've heard." The corners of Bruce's mouths turned up slightly into an almost-smile as he petted the boy's damp hair. It was a rare occasion to see Bruce like this, but it  would be a lie to say Dick didn't like the way Bruce's big hand felt in his hair. It made him feel… safe.

Too bad it was gone only a moment later. Dick felt his guardian's eyes watching him again and he looked up to return an equally blue gaze. Deep midnight-blue locked with radiant baby-blue. His guardian still had that unusual light-hearted vibe about him, and it would be a terrible shame not to play along.

"You're home early." Dick asked with a smirk, looking up sideways at Bruce playfully. "What's up? Did you miss me?" Bruce's expression was unreadable as he eyed Dick silently for barely longer than a heartbeat.

"Come, Alfred would be serving dinner soon. He would like to see you showered." Bruce's deep blue eyes softened just the tiniest bit as he held out a hand. Still smiling, Dick took Bruce's hand happily into his own and walked back alongside his guardian.

When Dick felt fuzzy warmth spread through him that caused his heart to flutter and his cheeks to flush, he really did wonder why.

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred sounded the dinner bell at precisely 7 o'clock, just as Dick had started to get really hungry. Dinner was simple, unlike some of the 'proper dinners' Alfred occasionally made, but it reminded Dick of all the happier memories he had of the circus. It was laid out exactly as it used to be; the main course, the rolls that served as a side-dish, the colorful fruit salad, and even the orange soda Dick had always loved. Alfred  _wa_ _s_ meticulous in his perfection.

"Is everything as wished, young Master?" Alfred inquired as he saw Dick looking around with a wide-eyed expression.

"Alfred, this is… This is exactly how everything used to be! I know you have your ways, Al, but… they must be one heck of a method to find things out!" Dick was rewarded with a smug look.

"Indeed they are, sir. Besides, I strongly believe that you do deserve a meal that you associate with some of your happier memories." Alfred's eyes were warm as he gestured for Dick to sit down. Dick was still eyeing at how Alfred had perfectly replicated the meal when he saw movement from the corner of his eye.

"Good evening, Master Bruce. Good to see that you had managed to make it for dinner. As you can see sir, I have prepared something rather special tonight."

"It does smell very good, Alfred. What is it exactly?" 

Dick looked up at the rumble of Bruce’s deep voice, only to be startled to see that Bruce was looking directly back at him. His mind suddenly went blank with the intensity of Bruce's gaze. 

Dick just stared back, too flustered to do anything else. With every moment that passed as Dick gazed into Bruce’s dark eyes, his heart thumped faster and faster. 

Dick snapped back when he heard Alfred clear his throat politely and began speaking again from the other side of the table.

"Before you, sir, is a meal prepared and enjoyed only in a travelling circus. The cook under the employment of Haly's Circus prepares this very meal specially for festivals and the occasional events of wedding or anniversary." Alfred shot Dick a tiny smile before continuing. "I have reason to believe that Master Dick is especially fond of this dish."

Dick beamed up at Alfred, then Bruce.

"Bruce, you won't believe that this looks and smells exactly the way I remember it."

"Sure I will, Dick." Bruce's voice was effortlessly calm as he took a seat across from Dick. "I am quite aware of what Alfred is capable of making." Taking the hint, Alfred bowed slightly.

"Bon appétit, Masters." With that, Alfred left, probably only to wait in an unseen corner. Somehow Alfred always knew exactly where and when he was expected to reappear.

For a brief moment Dick wondered if Alfred would have made a good crime fighter with his skills as a butler. He imagined Alfred jumping from roof to roof in a suit alongside Batman and Robin, apologizing in his British accent every time he took a thug down. Dick couldn't suppress a grin at the thought of that.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Dick had already filled  his plate and was pushing a spoonful of chicken and gravy in his mouth.

"Oh nothing." He said hurriedly. "Just another one of my crazy ideas."

"Mind telling me about them? I always found your ideas very amusing, Dick." Bruce sounded as if he was in an extraordinarily good mood, and Dick couldn't help but smile.

"Well, have you ever noticed how Alfred always knows about everything going on in the manor, and how he can always tell exactly when he's needed?" Dick lowered his voice a little, almost whispering what he said next. "Don't you think he could put those skills to use out there?" Dick motioned with his thumb to the general direction of the batcave.

"I suppose he can, Dick, if he isn't always so insistent about caring for the manor's well-being so consistently." Bruce was obviously not serious, and Dick was honestly very surprised to hear Bruce crack a joke. To top that, Bruce even smiled with it. One thing he had learned about Bruce in the past six months was that the billionaire never joked, unless he's playing the spoiled playboy façade, but that didn’t actually count.

"Or making one heck of a dinner for us." Dick added and took a massive bite off of a roll; Bruce smiled a little more at that.

"How's school, Dick?" The sudden change in topic put Dick off guard and he didn't get the chance to think about what he was going to say, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Great. My classmates are always very nice. I think most of them like me quite much."

"That's good to hear. Your teachers also tell me you're catching up very well." Dick remembered how bored he was that afternoon at school. Those dusty men and women who called themselves teachers barely qualified for their title. There was an actual chance that they could be quite smart, but that fact was drowned out by one thing: They. Were. Boring. The only teacher Dick thought who was worthy of his respect was the man right in front of him. The Batman himself.

"I do have the best mentor anyone can ask for. How do you think I got an A for Civil Studies and Spanish?" Dick grinned, and on second thought added, "And for gymnastics?"

"Dick, I couldn't have possibly helped you anymore in gymnastics than I do now. I just hope you didn't show off too much."

"No Bruce, that's not what I meant." Dick could barely suppress a giggle when he saw Bruce blink once. "If it weren't for you, how else did I manage enough self-control not to earn myself an A+?"

The rest of dinner continued in the same manner. Bruce asked Dick questions from one side of the table, and Dick chattered happily from the other end. Occasionally, Bruce would even throw in a joke. Dick would just say something witty back and giggle some more at seeing his otherwise gloomy guardian in such a good mood. All in all, dinner was spent in light-hearted ease.

It was a rare occasion where they could both sit down together and relax over an excellent dinner.  _Alfred is a genius,_ Dick thought as he watched the immaculately dressed butler take away plates to make way for dessert.  _He's probably the only man alive who knows how to give Bruce such a good mood._

Dick was just telling Bruce exactly why he should be allowed to watch late-night movies on the weekends (provided they didn't have to go on patrol, obviously). He really didn't want to miss watching a rerun of The Sound of Music that Friday night. Bruce was effortlessly striking every single one of Dick's arguments down.

Bruce’s persistent smirk made Dick all the more determined to convince Bruce, even when he decided quite some time ago that Bruce was, as always, right and that going to bed _wa_ _s_ probably a much better idea.

Dick was heatedly thinking up a new defense argument when Bruce shifted in his seat. Dick looked up to see that the smirk had disappeared and his eyes took on uncanny glint. The next thing Bruce said threw Dick off-balance.

"Say Dick, would you tell me more about your friends?" His tone told Dick nothing and Dick wondered whether Bruce genuinely wanted to know or if he had just found another way to win the argument. Dick searched eyes that felt as if they were boring holes into his skull, but found nothing, again.

"My friends? Do you mean the ones at school?"

"Yes."

"Well… Everyone's really nice and kind. They asked a lot of questions at first, which was honestly a little more than annoying, but that quickly passed. Most of them tell me they really like spending time with me and sometimes-"

"I meant a little more specific." Bruce interrupted with the exact same lusterless tone and expression. "Is there anyone in particular you spend more time with?"

"Uh, well… there's a boy from gymnastics I always end up having to help. And another one that I always end up getting paired up with in class projects. There's one more that always gets seated next to me." Dick paused to recall the hours he spent at school. "I also know an older boy who comes by every lunch break to eat lunch together with me. I'm not quite sure from which class he is, but he told me he goes to another school that's right beside ours." Bruce narrowed his eyes a little, and by then Dick was flipping all kinds of questions in his head. The look Bruce had meant danger. It's the same one Dick recognized from when they're following a lead as Batman and Robin. What exactly was Bruce getting at?

"The building beside yours is a Highschool. How much older is he?"

"Geez, Bruce. I can't tell just by looking at him. He's very nice to me, so don't worry." Just then Alfred came with a bowl of ice cream. Dessert looked absolutely delicious and Dick couldn't stop himself from digging into it immediately. After swallowing and realizing that Bruce was still waiting, still staring, Dick continued uncertainly. "Around 4 to 5 years? He probably looks older than he really is."

"Why is that?"

"He told me he's the captain of the football team, which is not as impressive as he thinks it sounds." Dick sniggered a little despite the heat Bruce's eyes were giving off. "He's quite big, not nearly as big as you are, but it still makes him look a whole lot older than he is." At that, Bruce narrowed his eyes even more, not even attempting to hide the dark suspicion boiling in them.

"The primary and Highschool buildings are quite a distance away. Did you ever ask him why he bothers?" This was not Bruce, this was the Batman talking, as direct and efficient as any living man could ever be. And efficient it definitely was.

"Yeah, once, a couple of weeks ago." Dick said in between mouthfuls of creamy vanilla ice cream. It was hard not to feel a little suffocated when Bruce was looking at him like that. He just hoped vanilla ice cream was enough of a distraction to keep a straight face. "It was raining quite hard and there was wind too, but he still came. I thought that was kind of silly of him, so I asked him why he wouldn't have preferred to eat lunch with his other friends that day."

"What did he say?"

"His answer was just as silly. He told me that a little rain would never keep him from coming to see me. Really, Bruce, the only thing he does when we eat is talk about how well he did on his last game. He couldn't possibly be some kind of criminal. He probably just likes me." Bruce’s eyebrows puckered into a kind of frown and he looked down in thought. Seeing his chance, Dick seized it.

"What's with the sudden questions, Bruce?" The brooding figure quickly snapped up and Bruce almost instantly returned to his earlier easy mood.

"I was just wondering how you're doing socially, Dick. It's not always easy to fit into a completely different lifestyle in such a short time."

"I guess so. I don't really mind change that much. I'm quite used to it. Living with a travelling circus did mean you had to move from city to city every other week." He wasn't looking at Bruce when he said that; he was much too busy licking the last remains of the creamy substance from his spoon. After a pause he added, "Don't worry about me, Bruce".

He shot the older man a reassuring smile as he spoke. Bruce didn't say anything. His midnight-blue eyes burned with something Dick couldn't quite put his finger on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you guys think of a Dick P.O.V? Love it? Hate it?  
> Please shout out all your burning comments and/or questions in the comment section :)  
> Knowing what you guys would love to hear will help a lot with making the third chapter.
> 
> P.s. Julie Madison was Bruce's love interest in a Batman limited series called Dark Moon Rising.


	3. Of Rich Men and Crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I have to thank all those of you who commented and gave kudos! I really appreciate that!  
> This is the chapter where you'll finally see Bruce and Dick as Batman and Robin. So, I'll hope you'll enjoy this!!
> 
> P.S. This takes place on the same night where chapter 2 left off.

 

**Chapter Three**  

**Of Rich Men and Crimes**

 

The shadows were long in the biting cold of the starless night. It was quiet, interrupted only by the occasional static crackle of dying street lights.

In a lonely corner of the city, where the darkness was almost impenetrable and the air reeked, the shadows stirred. The slightest tremble in the still air was followed by a fleeting flash of silhouettes. And just as fast as it came, the disturbance in the seemingly unyielding stillness was gone. The silence draped back over the shadows and the icy wind was left to howl to its contentment.

Somewhere in the depths of the city’s streets of corruption and sin lay a crumpled body, alone and cold and as still as the night that surrounded it.

The shadows stirred again, slowly this time, to reveal the dark, towering form of the Bat. The figure's eyes were cold flints of white as it made its way to the fallen figure on the ground.

Two fingers clad in heavy black leather pressed into ghost-pale skin pulsing with a stuttering heartbeat. The gloved fingers cautiously moved upward to turn the head. Cold sweat dripped over tensed muscles, twitching every now and then.

The gloved hand was steady as white slants narrowed to examine the face it held. Wide and unblinking eyes stared unseeingly at whatever was in front of them, pupils shrunk to make them almost entirely grey. Tears brimmed out of the swollen lids as lips silently mouthed the same word again and again.

"Why?"

The crouching caped figure straightened and activated a device attached on its belt. Help was on its way.

Something was done to this man. Something terrible.

This man had a name, Donald McGlenn. A rich businessman, undoubtedly corrupt. He was well known in the city’s poorer parts to be a very easy sugar daddy. Just last week he was seen in one of Bruce Wayne’s parties with his arms draped around two exotic beauties.

Bruce had grown tired of him bragging about his newest sport car collection, but Bruce had still seen him kiss and grope the women in his arms every once in a while, disgustingly unashamed of the noises they’d make.

What was a man like him doing here? Where was his army of bodyguards he had spent thousands of dollars on? What has happened to the flock of dames he usually carried around like pets?

The Bat looked up at the tell-tale red and blue lights accompanied by the wail of sirens. That would be the commissioner with an ambulance. McGlenn needed medical attention as soon as possible, his heart beat was beginning to falter.

Gordon would know the necessary protocol from here.

The dark form quickly melted back into the shadows before Gordon's men arrived, his work was far from finished. He waited a moment longer to listen as the men murmured surprised whispers to each other. It wasn't difficult to recognize the man who was currently being dragged into the ambulance.

“Oh my God.”

“That’s McGlenn. What did they do to him?”

“This city's sick, man. It just is.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” That was the commissioner's firm commanding voice, trying to reassure his men. “This must be the work of one of those lunatics. I’ll check with Arkham if any of their patients are missing, and I’ll tell them to double check if Mr. Crane is where he’s supposed to be.”

At first glimpse, it did look like the work of Crane. But he knew that the Scarecrow specializes in fear, and this man was not afraid. He’s in shock. It looked more like he had been tortured. Was McGlenn hallucinating? No, it did not look like it. But they couldn't be sure until they could do a complete inquiry.

But the motive? A personal vendetta? A mad obsession? He’ll have to find out.

Just as he was about to touch his intercom, it beeped once.

“Robin to Batman,” A clear voice spoke through the speakers. “I went around twice now and still found nothing. The streets are practically abandoned. Same luck on the North side?”

“Something came up,” His voice was low and serious. This was the no-joking-around voice he used when it’s all business. “Meet me back at the Batmobile, we need to discuss this.”

Robin must have gotten the hint, because his previous goofiness was gone. “Be right there. Robin out.”

The ride back to the Batcave was spent trying to explain the unusual lack of crime the latest incident that came up. Robin had suggested a few scenarios where McGlenn was blackmailed and lured out of his mansion to pay it off. Afterwards he was injected with a strong drug to cause his current predicament.

“We’re not sure if it’s going to be anything permanent yet.” The boy continued. “If it is, then that’s a sure fire way to keep the man from talking.” Robin’s story was rough and frayed around the edges, but it was not easy to conclude anything from so precious little.

“If they wanted to silence him, they could have just killed him.” The Bat pointed out. The biggest mystery of this whole thing was its motive. No crime could be solved until a motive was found, unless it was the work of a madman. But McGlenn was an idiot and the enemies he had only ranged from jealous ex-girlfriends to irritated party hosts. Nothing as dangerous as the other cases Batman had dealt with.

 Robin looked over at his mentor. His eyes were hidden behind his mask but his lips were pouted in frustration.

“Do you think this is somehow connected to the fact that Gotham is so quiet?” The Boy Wonder piped in. The city has indeed been much too quiet for the last two days. Batman mentally listed all the possibilities for such circumstances. None of them seemed to be relevant for what happened to McGlenn.

“We’ll have to wait for what the doctors say of his case to be sure.” Batman reached into his belt to hand the boy a glass vial. “A blood sample, in case he was drugged.” The boy scrutinized the dark liquid as if he would get an answer just by looking.

“I want you to run a complete analysis on the sample. Double check with Scarecrow’s fear toxins and any other kind of chemical that activates the stress-inducing regions of the brain.” They were just speeding through one of the cave’s hidden entrances and Robin was already beginning to unbuckle himself.

“Consider it done, Batman.”

As soon as the Batmobile came to a halt in the gloom of the cave, Robin jumped out in a red and green flurry. The boy’s yellow cape billowed behind him as he bolted to the cave’s laboratory with the vial tightly clutched in his hand. Robin was a fast learner, he only had to brief the boy once on how to run a blood analysis before he was doing it almost perfectly on his own.

Batman remained where he was for a moment until the yellow cape disappeared around a corner. He admired Robin’s boundless energy, even when the night was as cold and forbidding as it was tonight, Robin’s enthusiasm was unyielding.

There was nothing to admire about Gotham’s winter nights, they were cold and lonely. And yet, the young boy had looked at Bruce with shining blue eyes one day and told him happily that winter was on its way. He had asked his ward whether he enjoyed the cold, only to watch the boy shake his head.

“Not exactly the cold, no.”

“Then what is there to look forward to?”

“Curling up next to you with a mug of hot chocolate.” Dick had smiled up at him with such warmth, such candor, it was enough for Bruce to look forward to winter too, for once. With Dick.

The cowled man sighed and focused back on the task at hand. He still had to look into McGlenn's activities during the past two weeks, then he would sweep the city once more, just to be sure. But first, he would check in on the commissioner.

The Batmobile’s boosters fired in a red and orange blur as the car sped away into the night.

 

* * *

 

“Donald McGlenn seems to have walked to where he was.” A policeman was saying in the commissioner’s office, “At least for a mile or so, judging from where witnesses saw him last. He does not show physical signs of injury or sexual assault in anyway.”

“Did the doctors get anything out of the man?” Commissioner Gordon was pacing his office, irritated by the absence of evidence. No fingerprints. No missing money. No injuries. No letters. No tell-tale phone calls. No motive. No nothing.

“No, sir. The man is incoherent. They say he’s been traumatized pretty badly.”

“By what, Saunders. By what?” Gordon paced a couple more times before he sat down on his desk and began rummaging through files busily. McGlenn was a public icon. This incident could provoke all sorts of unwanted attention from the media. If the police couldn’t get to the roots of this fast enough, people all around Gotham would go crazy.

The last thing Gordon wanted was a city-wide panic frenzy.

“You’re dismissed, Officer Saunders.”

The young man walked towards the door before he anxiously looked back his superior.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, sir?” He tried.

“No thank you, officer. The only thing I need is what this man has to say. Only if they can get him to talk.” The last part was said more to himself as the young officer peered uncertainly at him from the doorway.

“Understood. Thank you, sir.” The door closed with a click, and Gordon was left alone with his thoughts.

The overworked commissioner read over files he knew would tell him nothing more. It was pointless, but he knew that it was preferred over doing absolutely nothing. God forbid when they would come to that. A case slowly growing cold was every cop’s worst nightmare.

“Anything I can do to help, commissioner?” A deep voice came from a dark corner somewhere behind the his desk.

Startled, Gordon spun around quickly to see a looming figure emerge. Gordon had these uninvited meetings with Batman often enough to get used to them, but it still gave him the creeps every time.

 “Not much that we haven’t done already.” The commissioner shook his head before he spoke again, “I’m beginning to think that maybe this man wasn’t even assaulted. Maybe this is just one of his latest stunts to get some media attention. Well, if that’s the case, his plan working _just fine_.” The commissioner’s rants were cut short by the other man’s deep voice.

“This was with him when I found him.” The Batman’s gloved hand pushed a crumpled piece of paper in the commissioner’s direction. There were some words scribbled on it.

_The brightest glance of pride and power,_

_I feel- have been_

“This must be someone’s sick idea of a joke.” The commissioner looked up into the hard lines of the cowled face.

“Maybe, we’ll have to see. How’s his condition?”

“He’s not improving. We have relocated him from the emergency room to a psychiatric ward. They tell me he’s in a sort of trauma. The guy’ll probably not be well enough to talk for quite some time.”

“Was anything missing from his house?”

“No, nothing. Whoever did this to him got nothing out of it.” Gordon sighed, “I’m telling you, it was not done for a sane reason. Everything points out to the work of a maniac, but none of the patients in Arkham are missing.”

The commissioner had started pacing once more, “Damn it! We don’t even know what happened to the man.” Gordon spun around on his heel in irritation, and began rummaging through the police reports again.

“If this is the work of another psychotic maniac, then nobody is safe until he is safely behind bars in Arkham. Maybe we should-” He sighed again as he saw that he had been talking to nothing but the shadows in his office. 

“Man, I do hate it when he does that.” The commissioner muttered as he set back to reading through reports.

The hours Batman had spent patrolling were fruitless, and the precious few leads he thought he had were proven to be nothing but empty speculations.

He had swept through McGlenn’s house twice and the only thing he learned was that the man was expected to come to a gala that Thursday. It was a gala funded by Bruce Wayne, another dead-end. Somewhere along the way Robin had called to tell him that the only other thing in McGlenn’s blood was alcohol.

Robin had already insisted to call it a night when he was doing his 3rd sweep through the city. On the 5th, he finally admitted that the Batman was not going to be of much use that night. It felt wrong to just do nothing and wait, but there was no other alternative. Besides, Bruce Wayne had a meeting at 9 the next day and Dick Grayson had school at 8.

Back in the moist air of the Batcave, he found that Dick had busied himself with reading through police reports and documents on the main computer’s database. From the way the boy was chewing on his bottom lip in agitation, he knew that his search was as just fruitless.

“Anything to report, Robin?” The Batmobile’s engine purred to rest as he made his way to where Robin was seated.

“Nope.” Robin spun around in his chair and threw his hands in the air. “The only thing fishy about this guy’s life is the amount of women he can land.”

Robin was probably too young to know the things money could do, or what being a sugar daddy meant. 

“It’s late, Robin, and you have school tomorrow. Why don’t you get some sleep?” Pulling off his cowl, Bruce sat at his own over-sized desk to shift through scattered files. Robin was quiet for a few seconds before he began peeling his own mask off.

“And what will you do?” Dick’s clear voice cut through the cave’s chill. Bruce turned to see his ward looking at him intently. Blue eyes wide as they waited for an answer. He suddenly looked so small sitting in the middle of this dark, morbid cave.

 _I still have some_ _things_ _to go_ _through_ , was hanging on the tip of his tongue, but something held him back from just saying it. Maybe it had something to do with the way Dick was looking up at him, or maybe it was just the nagging thought that he would find nothing in those files anyway.

“Will you tuck me into bed tonight? Alfred’s probably asleep by now.” Baby-blue eyes still bore into his, glimmering hopefully up at him. It was that moment that he noticed how… unusual Dick’s eyes were. They held the promise of the brightness Dick always brought with him, but somewhere deep within, there was also pain.

And he hated seeing it there. Hated seeing the boy in any kind of pain. Hated the very thought of Dick being hurt. All he wanted to do was to take the small boy in his arms and soothe all his qualms away, to have Dick look at him with his brilliant blue eyes and smile.

All he wanted was to know that Dick was happy.

That Dick was happy here, with him.

Looking into those baby-blue eyes now, he remembered how Dick’s small face had looked like with streaks of tears wetting his cheeks. How his voice quivered as sobs racked his small body.

Never. He would never allow anything hurt Dick that way again.

But the damage had been done. Bruce’s biggest regret was that he would never know how Dick’s eyes looked like without the pain there.

Then he was almost overwhelmed by the memory of Dick smiling up at him. A small and sweet smile that showed him just how much Dick trusted, and needed, him. In those smiles, Bruce could hope.

For some reason, he just couldn’t say no.

 

* * *

 

Dick’s pajamas were pale blue, and he smelled of the chocolate milk Bruce had brought him.

Bruce didn’t know why he hadn’t just called Alfred to bring the boy his chocolate milk, he knew the butler wasn’t actually asleep yet. Neither did he know why he had stayed to sit on the edge of Dick’s bed.  Perhaps it was the way Dick would curl up in his blankets and sip at the hot liquid.

“Bruce?”

“Yes, Dick.”

“Tell me a story.” Dick was beaming up at him, with  _those_  eyes and  _that_  smile.

“A story? What kind of story?”

“That one.” Dick pointed at a single book that rested on his nightstand. It wasn’t one of the books Bruce had bought him, it was one of the few possessions Dick had brought with him when he left the circus. Along with the book, the young boy had also brought a framed picture of him and his parents, his last Flying Grayson uniform, and a stuffed elephant.

Bruce was not supposed to know that Dick hid his stuffed elephant under the bed, but he noticed one night when he came in to check on the boy and found him sleeping with the elephant wrapped in his small arms. It had been the second night Dick spent at the manor and Bruce was worried that the boy might have been plagued with nightmares.

Afterwards, he had made sure to tell Alfred not to move the toy from its hiding place whenever the butler would tidy his room.

The book was a children’s picture book, probably something Dick’s mother used to read him when he was much younger. The pages of the book were worn and the pictures were slightly faded. Bruce wondered just how many times Dick’s mother had read him this story in the past before… before that night in the circus tent.

Bruce frowned slightly to himself as he held the book in his hands. He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to go. The memories of his own mother reading him story books were clouded and fuzzy, but he did remember all the times his mother gave him a good night kiss. Somewhere deep down, Bruce knew he missed them, but on most occasions, he tried not thinking about them too much.

“There was once a little bird that lived high up in a tree.” He started tentatively, and a giggle escaped the young boy as he wriggled deeper into his blankets.

Bruce read the story as best as he could, the frail book felt awkward in his hands and his voice sounded hollow when he spoke. As he continued, he was rewarded with the sight of Dick’s content little smile as his eyes slowly began to close.

And that was compensation enough, more than enough.

Dick was smiling sleepily when he finished the story, his lids were fluttering with the effort to stay awake. Bruce took the empty glass from the boy’s small hands and placed it on the nightstand for Alfred to clear away in the morning. Dick was already half-asleep when Bruce tucked the small boy more comfortably into the thick blankets.

“I had always wondered what it was like to live in a tree.” Dick murmured into his pillow.

“Good night, Dick.” Bruce stroked the side of Dick’s head, carding his fingers lazily through soft, silken hair. A smile found its way on Bruce’s face as he felt the young boy lean into his touch. This was how he’ll always want to see Dick. Safe and happy. 

“G’night, Bruce.”  The boy mumbled.

Bruce couldn’t resist to press a kiss into the boy’s temple. Dick was so beautiful when he was happy. The skin beneath his lips was warm and smelled of soft blankets and chocolate. He lingered for a heartbeat before pulling away. Dick’s eyes were closed and his pink lips were curled into a drowsy smile.

Yes, this was how he would always want to see Dick.

 

* * *

 

 

He would never admit it, but that night, sleep eluded him. His mind was filled with a whirlwind of fleeting images. The silence was too loud and he was constantly reminded of how big his bed was.

How big and empty it was.

But above all, it was the hollow ache deep in his chest that left him restless and wide awake.

He would never admit it, but until dawn, he spent the rest of the night hidden in the shadows on the outside of a window. Just watching. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That note left with McGlenn was from a poem by Edgar Allan Poe called The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour. Just in case you would like to check the rest out.  
> Again, please leave any burning comments or questions in the comment section. I really appreciate any kind of feedback. :)


	4. Of Galas and Frustration

**Chapter** **Four**

**Of** **Galas** **and** **Frustration**  

 

It was Thursday, two days after Donald McGlenn was found on the streets. Batman had been keeping an almost-continual watch on the man. Murder was not exactly the most feasible theory at the moment, but it was still too early to be sure about anything. It was always better to be safe than sorry, and if there was one thing Bruce knew about killers, it was that they never left a job unfinished.

They simply couldn't afford to be ignorant at this point.

Psychiatrists in charge of McGlenn had reported that he was beginning to show a little improvement. When encouraged enough, the man had even managed to form short, but coherent, sentences. It would still be at least three weeks before he could be questioned about the case, which meant that it would also still be three weeks before Batman could get the answers they needed.

To make the wait all the more agonizing, the city was still disturbingly quiet by its standards. They had only come across a few desperate teenagers trying to house-break, and a violent alcoholic who just got dumped by his girlfriend.

Bruce noted that they were both spontaneous acts, not the premeditated crimes, ranging from drug extortions to arms dealing to illegal human trafficking, which usually ran rampant in Gotham. Nearly four entire days without a single hint of any major crime had begun to make him very, very worried.

He had taken precautionary steps the previous night and questioned a handful of men who he knew worked for the biggest crime syndicates in town. He was sure at least half of them were supposed to make a move in the course of that week, and yet, all of them had sworn they were staying down for the time being, that they were “honest-to-God” not planning anything. Some of them even went so far as to say that they were clean for good now.

Held under the unwavering glare of the Bat, they were bound to be afraid, especially if the Bat had _that_ dangerous edge to his growl and had his gauntleted hand wrapped tight around their throats. Some of them turned ghostly pale, some of them cried, some even fainted when the Bat’s eyes narrowed to an unforgiving squint. And yet, the only thing he learned from an entire night of doing nothing else but scaring the wits out of scum, was that every single one of them were hiding something behind the tremor in their voices.

From the way the men refused to tell him anything despite the way they were begging and pleading for him to let go, this _thing_ they were afraid of was obviously something they feared even more than the black, towering figure of the Bat. Not many would have preferred to face the Dark Knight’s fury over a relatively simpler confession.

He was sure, by then, that somebody or something had threatened these men to keep their mouths shut. The most likely theory was that a very big crime organization was behind this whole affair. Not many individual men had the influence or power enough to keep a city the size of Gotham quiet.

And he was convinced that this had everything to do with what happened to Donald McGlenn.

Bruce had spent hours staring at criminal records, trying to find some kind of a lead as to what was going on. All his efforts were futile. Both Batman and the ever-determined boy wonder came up with nothing. It was beginning to get on his nerves. And Gordon’s.

The mayor had been anything but pleased with the recent turn of events and he had been nothing but impatient to get results out of the police commissioner as fast as possible. As if Gordon wasn’t already under enough pressure.

There was one last lead that could possibly give them any answers. The chances were slim, but there weren't many other things to go on. He had this nagging dread that it was just a matter of time before they would find a second victim. He wasn't entirely too happy with the idea that they were running out of options, and particularly not if the remaining option meant having to use his rich-playboy persona.

“Maybe if you didn’t look as if you’ll bite my fingers off any second, I’ll be more convinced you’re actually going to a gala.” A sunny, clear voice came from behind him as he strode into the living room. He was dressed to perfection, Alfred had seen to that.  Every inch of his being screamed ‘rich’, ‘playboy’ and ‘elite’. His hair was slicked back, and the particular shade of black of his suit complimented the blue of his eyes charmingly, or, at least, Alfred had said so. This was the look many of Brucie’s peers described as ‘deliciously irresistible’, but the only thing Dick seemed to notice was the dangerous glint he had in his eyes.

“This gala is one of the last places McGlenn was supposed to make an appearance in.” The low, guarded voice that came from the dazzling figure of Brucie, the air-headed womanizer, seemed terribly out of place. “There may be something there.”

Dick was lounging in a couch, one leg tucked beneath him and the other dangling idly over the edge. Next to him was a wide plate filled with Alfred’s peanut butter cookies, fresh from the oven. He was lazily flipping through the pages of a comic book as he glanced at the bigger man.

“Aw… c’mon, Bruce. Those galas of yours can’t possibly have any more use than to chatter about Gotham’s latest gossip.” The comic book hid the smirk that formed on Dick’s lips, but Bruce could still see mischief glimmer in the boy’s baby-blue eyes.

“One of my guests may know something that we don’t, Dick. McGlenn could have confided in one of his acquaintances about any threats, or blackmail.”

“Well, I hope you’re right, Bruce.” The boy mumbled through a mouthful of cookie as he placed his comic away. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment, but that was all it took for Bruce to have seen the depth of trust in Dick’s eyes.

Bruce turned and walked away. It had been six long months since the very first time Dick looked at Bruce with those big, trusting eyes. Six months, and they still startled Bruce every time.

He would remember their first meeting for as long as he lived, of that he was sure. He could never forget the lost, heartbreaking wails Dick made as he knelt beside the broken bodies of what used to be his mother and father. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if by not seeing he could make everything just… disappear.

With every wrecking sob, Bruce could feel an old, deep wound being ripped open all over again. He wasn’t sure what drove him to wrap his arms around the slight frame, perhaps it was the way the boy had seemed so small and alone in the colorful circus tent. Or perhaps it was because he knew that behind the boy’s tears was not only grief. There was anger.

He willed Dick to know that there was someone out there who understood, someone who cared. But despite all he knew, Bruce never expected what happened next. Never understood why he deserved it. Dick buried his face into his chest and desperately clung on to him, a complete stranger.

From all the people in the tent, some were old friends who knew him all his life, the boy clung unto Bruce. Dick trusted Bruce. He just did. From the very beginning.

Bruce was walking towards the front doors where, just outside, Alfred was waiting patiently next to a shining black Porsche, when Dick’s sunny voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Have fun.” The dark-haired boy added with a smile so bright it was hard to believe otherwise.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, Brucie! I insist that you _must_ dance with me.” A blonde beauty in five-inch high stilettos and a dress that barely hid anything was practically pulling at his arm. Her lips were so close to his ear he could almost _feel_ the sickening stickiness of her blood-red lipstick. Darlene, he thought her name was. Not that it really made a difference. “It’s such a _perfect_ night for a dance.”

“I beg to disagree!” The blonde hanging on his other arm whined. “I think _my_ Brucie would much rather dance with _me_.” She said as she pressed the swell of her breasts into the length of his arm.

“Darlene, Jolie,” The handsome playboy said nonchalantly. “why don’t I fetch the both of you something to drink first?” The smile he flashed could dazzle and leave every woman in the hall star-truck. And it served its purpose well, because the two ladies just swooned after him as he untangled himself from their grasp and headed towards the bar.

This was how most of the night passed. It was either being tailed by an infatuated flock of Gotham’s most beautiful or chatting to the most elite, yet preposterous men. This was not his exact idea of fun, although his playboy persona was supposed to be having the time of his life.

After two hours of prodding and prying several of McGlenn’s associates, he gave up on the notion completely. It turned out that none of them had even spoken to the man the day prior to the incident. McGlenn was not the type of person people would want to call for a friendly chat.

Determined that he couldn’t find anything in his guests that night, Bruce decided to focus his attention on other problems, such as the petite girl effectively dragging him to a more secluded part of the building. She wasn’t completely bad to look at, with dark brown hair that flowed down to her perky breasts and over to the curve of her ass. Tiffany. Bruce recalled her from the times he had seen her at various other receptions.

They finally found an unused bathroom in one of the building’s emptier sections. Tiffany was already pressed flush against him, lips an inch away from his. Her bubbly, fruity perfume was strong to the point of being almost overwhelming. His head would reel slightly whenever he took a deep breath of her scent.

“Bruce,” Her voice was heavy with raw desire. “take me here. Please, Brucie.” She was half-moaning as she attached her lips onto his. Her tongue was soft and pliant underneath his own as their kiss became more and more heated.

He snaked his hand over her tiny waist to cup the curve of her ass and gave it a squeeze. Tiffany squealed in response. Being especially bold, he snaked his hands further under her mini-skirt and rubbed at the soft material of her panties.

“Ah, Bruce!” She began rocking into the hand that was rubbing up and down the silken length of her panties. Even through the fabric, he could feel moist rapidly soaking through. He pulled away from her hot mouth and began kissing his way along her jaw.

“Bruce.” She rasped as he slipped a finger into her panties and began massaging her folds in slow circles. “Now. I want you _now_.”

“As you wish, darling.” Taking his hands out from under her skirt, he pinned her petite body against a wall. Her lips were on his again as she began pulling her panties off.

The kiss was wet and messy, and the porn-star moans escaping her lips were nothing less than obscene. He began nibbling teasingly on her lower lip and he felt slender legs wrap around his waist.

At the first contact between his cock’s swollen tip and her dripping wet hole, he felt her whole body bucking wantonly against his.

Pleasure flooded his senses as he began pushing in. She was stretched so, so, snugly around him.

Her head was thrown over his shoulder and her nails were leaving crescent-shaped dents on the back of his neck. With every thrust into the hot wetness, he could feel the knot low in his stomach gradually getting tighter and tighter.

With his eyes squeezed shut, all he could feel was carnal bliss that made his breath come out in ragged shallow gasps. His mind went almost entirely blank except for the delicious wet friction that came along every deep push.

He groaned as he felt the pressure tightening around him. She came with a high-pitched scream that echoed through the entire bathroom.

The gush of slippery wetness and sudden tightness that pressed around his swollen cock made him groan from deep within his chest. His thrusts became erratic as he felt the knot in his stomach become almost unbearably tight.

A low guttural groan slipped past his lips again. He was so close. The heat scorching low in his gut was like liquid fire.  When was the last time he got relief?

He could feel soft hair pressing into the side of his face and feel the press of a slight figure beneath him. He felt the small body beneath him shudder as he buried himself in deep, and that was enough to push him off the edge. With a final hard thrust, he saw white splashes dance around in his vision and he came. Hard.

Wave after wave of pleasure flooded him. And the only thing he could think about was the way soft hair nuzzled his neck and the way the small body squirmed underneath him. He groaned helplessly as he turned his face to inhale the scent of silken soft hair. The intoxicating, fuzzy, soft-sweet scent that he so longed for.

Only that it wasn't the intoxicating, fuzzy, soft-sweet scent. It was too bubbly and too floral. He snapped his eyes open and was surprised to see long, flowing brown hair.

He blinked in confusion a few times, and pulled back slightly to stare into hazel eyes.

 _Blue_. Was the only thought he could muster.

He ran his hand through the hair that he was nuzzling just moments ago. The straight wispy texture felt oddly out of place beneath his fingertips. He suddenly realized that the body his other hand was caressing somehow felt too curvy, too feminine…

_What?_

“Oh, Brucie…” A shrill, breathless female voice sighed. _Tiffany_. His mind cleared as he came down from the heights of his orgasm. _Tiffany._ His conscience was screaming at him. _So what was I…_

Bitter shame slowly crept into him as he realized what had just happened. The brunette still entangled in his arms was not what made him lose himself in a wild frenzy of lust. It was not flowing, brown hair that he imagined carding his fingers through. It was not red, lipstick-tinted lips that he wanted to kiss until they were swollen and raw. It was not hazel eyes he longed to gaze into.

_What am I doing?_

His head thrummed with an endless train of questions; questions that he couldn't possibly answer.

If only he could provide an explanation for what he had just done, then maybe he wouldn't be so... so… confused.  If only he could understand what this twisting feeling deep in his chest was.

But he couldn’t. 

 

* * *

 

“Your grilled cheese sandwich, young sir.” Alfred’s cultured voice announced behind the boy clad in a bright green and red suit. Dick had been busying himself with an article Batman had asked him to go over. It was about the rumors going around about a big cocaine shipment coming in from South America.

There really wasn’t anything new there which they weren’t already aware of. The things they did need to know (like who they were expecting to meet and why they decided to act again tonight after 4 days being dormant) were still a big mystery.

‘Nothing’ was not exactly the kind of thing Bruce would want to hear him report, especially not in the mood Bruce was in. But on hearing the butler, the boy spun around in his chair to abandon his research and pounced on the warm sandwich.

“Thanks, Alfred.” He said right before he took a big bite off of the crunchy bread and molten cheese.

“You are most welcome young sir. Any luck with the latest narcotics case?” The butler asked politely.

“Nothing new, just the usual. A really big load is supposed to come later tonight. Sometime around midnight. It doesn’t look like they’re going to change their plans, although I’m still not sure who they are bringing it to.” Robin’s lips formed a slight pout even as he continued munching on the sandwich. “It’s tough to find any leads with all the crooks in town deciding to stay put and get their beauty sleep.”

“Well, I must admit I am not entirely unhappy to hear that. Perhaps those ‘crooks’ you speak of have finally taken the time to consider and choose their next actions more wisely.”

“I really don’t think that’s the case this time, Al. This doesn't really feel right.” Dick whipped around to look over at the dark, brooding figure sitting in the other corner of the cave. Alfred had to repress a smile at the sight of bread crumbs covering the young boy’s cheeks as he addressed his mentor.

“Further instructions, captain?”

There was no smile or humor in the hard lines of the Bat’s glare. But Dick being Dick, his goofy smile didn't waver in the slightest.

“The Docks.” The low growl was the only answer Dick got.

The boy was distracted for a second by Alfred handing him a napkin to wipe at his face, and the next thing he knew, he heard the Batmobile roar to life.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” Yellow cape swishing behind him, Robin leaped to the Batmobile with a “Grumpy much?” muttered as a farewell to the unruffled butler. Alfred only raised an eyebrow as he watched after Gotham’s two protectors.

“You didn't tell me what you found at that gala yet.” The boy wonder asked as soon as they were speeding through the darkened streets of Gotham.

Bruce came back a little after nine that night, which was very early by Bruce’s standards. The only thing he did before heading straight down to the cave was throw the smuggling-rumors report in Dick’s direction along with a harsh “Read over those,” snapped at him. Down in the cave, Batman had not spoken another word to him or even glanced at him.

Dick hadn't really gotten the chance to ask him about the gala.

“Anything that might be helpful?” he tried again.

The boy didn't notice, but under the heavy leather of the Bat’s gauntlets, knuckles turned white as big hands tightened their grip on the wheel, but what Robin did notice was the terrifying intensity of his mentor’s glare. The white lenses were like flints of ice and the hard line of the Bat’s mouth was contorted into a bitter scowl.

The other profound thing the young boy noticed was the silence that followed. The Bat was glowering at the road unblinkingly and showed no signs of acknowledging his ward.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He shrugged and dismissed his mentor’s cold demeanor, although he couldn't prevent the unhappy pout that came with the small, sharp twinge in his chest. He managed to plaster a poker-face just a split second later, but the older man must have noticed anyway because he flashed a glance at Dick and growled a brusque: “No, nothing useful.”

“Alright.” Robin said and smiled warmly at the looming figure next to him. He was more than a little relieved to finally hear Bruce say something, no matter how brief or harsh it was.

The retort Batman barked back at Dick might have sounded rude or downright hostile to others, but Dick knew that for now, that was the most he’ll ever get out of Bruce.

The wide grin the boy was sporting was nothing he could repress.

 

* * *

 

Batman was scowling through a pair of binoculars while Robin crouched beside him, alert for any impeding danger. The nights were getting progressively colder and to accommodate the rapidly decreasing temperature, his Robin suit had been remodeled to a warmer one.  For one, his legs weren’t bare anymore. The green tights he now wore were made of insulated leather, and they annoyed him more than he cared to admit. They made his skin feel hot and tight whenever he bent his knees. All throughout his career as an acrobat his outfits were always legless, but Dick was well aware that being a little uncomfortable was still better than having his legs freeze off in the biting cold.

The chilly wind that blew into their faces smelled of salt and sand. The sea was nothing but a churning black body of water against the smoky skyline. Robin squinted through his domino mask for the first signs of the ship bringing its illegal cargo to the docks of Gotham. It was too dark for him to make out anything more than the grim flicker of waves on the water’s surface.

“They should be here by now.”

Again, the only answer the boy got was complete silence. Batman was barely more than a liquid shadow flowing smoothly in the blowing wind. The only part identifiable as anything more than a silhouette was the eerie white glow of his lenses.

"They are.” The quiet rumble of the Bat could have easily been registered as the wild crashing sounds of the waves against the concrete dock. “Cover the East side.”

Before Robin had any time to respond, the dark shadow beside him was gone in the slightest whisper of a breeze.  Pushing all his other thoughts to the back of his mind, Robin leapt down from their vantage point and descended into a hidden spot behind some crates. He made sure that all his blind spots were visible from where Batman was at, and that he had a clear exit path.

He went through all the important things Bruce had taught him in the past six months about busting a drug deal. _Wait for the right moment. Don’t rush it. Stay hidden until they anchor down and unload the goods._

By then, he could see the dark outline of the slowly approaching ship. It was obvious that the ship was trying its best not to get caught by the coast-guard. But even these South Americans should know that where the police fail, Batman and Robin will compensate. Right?

Soon enough the ship had anchored itself and a couple of men could be seen quietly hustling and bustling around. They were wary and nervous, but not suspecting. _It’s an advantage when the men do not suspect your presence. Use the element of surprise to daze them from counterattacking._

This would be easy.

They waited a couple more minutes until the men began hauling crates from the ship, then Batman gave the sign.

The only thing the frightened eyes of the men saw was a massive pitch-black silhouette rapidly descending onto them before they were knocked into oblivion. A couple more unlucky ones had to bear full witness to the ghastly glare of the Bat’s glowing-white lenses before they, too, fell to the hard concrete ground.

On the East side, the only thing the men saw was a red and green blur of motion before a swift blow would make their legs fail beneath them. _Don’t waste your time on one target. Keep moving._

Robin was untouchable with his speed as he weaved through the flanks of men. _Use your speed against them. Keep moving._ Every perfectly executed maneuver preceded another one without a moment’s pause. Later, the men would swear that the whirlwind of constant motion must have consisted of at least five people.

_Never let your guard down._

Robin leaped and twisted mid-air to take two bewildered men out, then spun behind another two before they even registered what was going on. He felt his muscles beneath the skin-tight leather flex and strain as he lurched from one spot to the other. Every instinct of his acrobat-career buzzed to life again. It was almost frighteningly thrilling.

The boy wonder looked more like he was in the middle of a graceful, swift-paced dance than he was actually fighting. The persistent smirk on the boy’s lips did not make the latter case anymore believable.

A tell-tale metallic click told him that the rest of the men had been alerted about the commotion on the docks. Reinforcement had arrived. _There will be guns. Don’t panic, never panic. Keep moving._

Not that a couple more nerve-wrecked men could ever stop the boy wonder.

Robin heard someone yell, “Hold it right there, punk!” before a hurricane of gunshots were aimed at him. _Count shots. Wait for a break when they reload._ Dodging the bullets was easy. The darkness made it all the more difficult to hit a perpetually moving target. Judging from the strength of the shots and the time interval between each shot, the guns the men were using were just semi-automatic pistols.

Slipping back into the shadows behind a couple of crates, he used the momentary distraction when the men had to reload their clips.

“Where’d he go!?” One of them said as the gunners realized their target had disappeared. Their eyes darted from side to side frantically in hope to find the boy. _Exploit their backs. Gunners will not expect to be attacked from behind._

“Peek a boo,” was the last thing the men heard before they felt a sharp blow to the back of their heads. “Decided to doze off so early? Well, I guess it _is_ way past your bedtime.” Robin almost beamed at the array of unconscious men lying scattered on the ground.

On the other side of the dock, Batman currently had a very frightened man dangling by the front of his collar.

“I- I don’t know! God, I swear! I don’t know.” The man was stammering frantically as his eyes went so wide with fear Robin thought they would never close again.

Even from such a distance, Robin could see that the man’s jaw was dislocated and that the angry swelling on one shoulder must have hurt like hell. And on closer inspection, Robin realized that the man had every one of his fingers broken. He also saw a dark, wet gleam of trickling blood flowing from a deep cut in between his ribs.

“Do you think this is some kind of game?” The low snarl made the man wince and splutter, only to be cut short as Batman’s grip tightened. “Are you telling me that you went here to bring about half a ton of cocaine without even knowing who you are dealing with?” The white slivers of the Bat’s glare would make any adult man cry for his mother. “Who are you going to meet?”

“T-T-Thurston! Alright, Thurston! We were gonna meet with Thurston. Robert Thurston!”

“I don’t see him anywhere around the docks tonight.” Batman’s voice was dripping with such scorn and bitterness, even Robin winced a little.

“Well, I-I don’t know! Honest!” The poor man was crying by now. He tried his best to speak in between ragged sobs. “He said he was gonna be here at midnight, but he didn't show.” Batman’s grip tightened again, and it was tight enough to begin suffocating the man off his oxygen.

“P-please! He told us he would come pick the goods up and pay the money off.  I ain’t have no idea why he didn't! Just, please! Let me go. Please!”

Batman roughly dropped the man with a last warning glare. The man just sat there, broken and battered on the ground staring huge-eyed as the Bat melted back into the shadows.

Robin had already gone back to their earlier vantage point. Soon, the police would come and sort the rest of the mess up. Commissioner Gordon was well aware of the whereabouts of this latest drug shipment and would handle everything on his own from here.

For now, Robin was worried enough by the way most of the men lay almost crippled all around the docks. To be precise, the men on the West side. The men on Batman’s side.

Some of them had their ribs, hip or shoulders crushed, some of them had their jaws hanging limply at odd angles, and some of them were even coughing up gobs of blood. The tortured wails and groans from the men below told Dick that they were in serious pain. This was a little too harsh. Even for the Dark Knight of Gotham.

“Batman, are you alright?” He asked as soon as the cowled figure appeared beside him from the shadows. He must admit that he was a more than just slightly concerned. Not only had Bruce been inscrutably bitter half of the night, but Dick knew better than to ignore the dark glint that had taken residence deep within those midnight-blue eyes.

It wasn’t exactly the rarest thing to see his guardian in a foul mood, but usually he would never allow it to affect their nocturnal occupation. Batman had one of the strictest moral codes Dick had ever come across, and what the Dark Knight had just done was too close to breaking it than was convenient.

Robin wasn’t exactly worried about the injured thugs lying scattered on the docks, that was probably the last thing on his mind at the moment. He was worried about the man that hid behind the hard lines of the cowl. He was worried about _Bruce._ Not Brucie Wayne, not Batman.

Bruce, just Bruce.

“Batman?”

Again, no answer. And when it did come, it was all business.

“They were expecting Thurston, one of Thorne’s men,” No sentiment. No feelings. No nothing. Just a low, dark voice uttered against the sea’s howling wind. “He was never going to show.”

A long pause. Robin knew not to ask how he could be so certain of that, definitely not in the mood he was in. But Robin still cocked his head in the Bat’s direction to ask for further explanation. They weren't facing each other before, and the gesture was frankly just a lame excuse to steal a glance at the Bat’s expression. Half of it may be hidden by the cowl and the other half may have been painstakingly disciplined not to show any kind of emotion whatsoever, but during the six months Dick had lived at the manor he had learned how to look through layer after layer of pretense and steal fleeting glimpses of the person that lay beneath them. Glimpses of _Bruce._

Sometimes, hardly ever, Dick really thought he could see pride in the way Batman would face him for just a second. Or, sometimes, he thought he could see humor glimmer in Bruce’s eyes whenever Dick puns or cracks a joke.

Dick even thought once that he saw a certain tenderness in the way the older man would gaze at him. But most of time, Bruce remained at a distance.

Dick had to admit that it frustrated him. He wanted to know what Bruce was going through. All Dick wanted was just to be there with him. For him.

This time, however, Robin was not granted the luxury of seeing his face. Batman turned his broad back on the younger boy as soon as he turned to look at him. The silence stretched for a little while longer before the Bat finally rasped a low:

“Thurston was afraid of something.”

“The same something that has been scaring the rest of them?”

The silence that followed told Dick that it was best not to ask any more questions that night. But something from the caped figure’s demeanor as he stood completely still, overlooking the docks littered with crippled men, also told him that the scowl on his face was not meant for the smugglers.

It wasn't even meant for Dick. Batman, no _Bruce_ , was angry at himself.

Dick stole another glance at his mentor, he didn't even bother to hide the concern shining in his eyes, but the only thing he could see was the heavy material of Batman’s long cape swirling in the wind as he waited for Gordon to arrive with his men.

After painfully long minutes spent waiting in uneasy silence, the wail of the police’s sirens came somewhat as a relief. But Dick didn't really feel any better. For some reason, the weight that had settled on him just got heavier.

 

* * *

 

Back at the cave, Batman went over the case once more. Dick listened attentively as Bruce briefed him through every possible theory.

Rupert Thorne was a man of his word and would never ditch such a big load unless, of course, if something had him tied up. What Dick understood from reading Rupert Thorne’s case files, was that not many people in this world could keep him from getting what he wanted.

And how did this all connect to McGlenn? They didn't know. There were simply too many loose ends, and not enough evidence.

The rest of the night was spent in complete silence.

“Forgive me for interrupting, sirs,” Alfred’s cool voice sounded from behind them, “but I believe Bruce Wayne is expected to make an appearance at a social meeting at 9 in the morning tomorrow. Or should I say, today, since it is already a couple of hours past midnight.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” That was the first time Dick had heard Bruce’s voice in hours.

He watched his guardian make his way to the staircase that led to the main building. Dick was waiting, no, _hoping_ for Bruce to say something. Anything at all. He just needed reassurance that everything was alright.

But all Dick got was a terse: “Go to bed, Dick.” before the other man disappeared out of Dick’s line of sight. Not so much as a goodnight or good bye. This was definitely not the first time Dick was treated so coldly, but it still caused a hollow ache stir his insides.

_Everything is going to be alright, right?_

Dick stared at the towering stairs that led to the secured door in the cavern’s wall, and tried to remember the way Bruce’s big hand felt ruffling his hair. It felt… it felt _warm._ And it made him happy. Then he remembered how those same hands comforted him and held him.

Bruce made him feel safe, made him feel _wanted_ again. Then, out of nowhere, the painful question seemed to present itself.

What _was_ Dick really doing there?

Bruce… Bruce didn't exactly need him. If anything, Dick was just slowing him down.

“Is there anything bothering you, young Master?” Alfred’s kind voice distracted him from anymore hurtful questions, which he honestly didn’t want to know the answer to.

“No, Al. It’s just- this must really sound stupid. It’s just that Bruce seems to be so distant today. I- I don’t know what happened, but Bruce has barely spoken or even looked at me all night.”

“Well, we both know that Master Bruce is quite too often not pleased with how things are. But I can assure you, young sir, that his vexation is not directed at you.”

“I really do hope so.” Dick looked down at his green leather boots. The patterns on the leather were suddenly very interesting. “I just- you know. It’s worse than usual this time. He has beaten most of the guys to a pulp before. You should’ve seen him, Alfred.” Alfred raised an eyebrow at this, but remained silent.

“It’s kind of hard to admit, Al,” Dick sighed sadly, his bright blue eyes cast down and unhappy, “but it hurts me more than I ever realized when Bruce is like this.”

 “Please do not take this too personally, dear boy.” Alfred’s eyes were kind and his small smile told Dick that the man understood. “The last thing Master Bruce would want is to see you upset or hurt in anyway. I don’t suppose I must remind you that Master Bruce only wants what is best for you. In fact, I believe that may even be an understatement. From what I have observed, Master Bruce is more than just a little fond of having you in his company.”

That last part surprised Dick, mostly because it sounded so… strange to hear out loud. Dick thought that it would always be a little weird to speak about Bruce’s feelings so openly. Then again, this was Alfred. Nothing escaped the man. Nothing.

“Really?” Dick smiled a little sheepishly at the old butler and felt his cheeks warm up. He must have been blushing. “Well, I like spending time with him too.” He added, feeling the heat spread to the tips of his ears.

“But then why- what happened?” Dick’s smile dropped, “Do you think it would be a good idea if asked him about it? I- I want to help, Alfred.”

“Who could ever tell what bothers him, young sir? Don’t worry, everything will be alright.” Alfred smiled down kindly at the young boy and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “If you prefer, Master Dick, I will speak to him first come morning. But for the mean time, I believe it would be wiser to give him some time to himself first.”

“Thanks Al, that would be really nice.” Dick smiled back at the old butler and desperately hoped what he said was true. If time was all Bruce needed, then Dick was prepared to give him all the time he could possibly need. Maybe Dick had just been overreacting.

 _Everything will be better in the morning._ Dick told himself.

_Bruce was probably just frustrated about the McGlenn case._

“Now, why don’t you take a hot shower and change into something more appropriate for bed? Tomorrow is another school day.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys :D What did you think of this chapter? As usual, questions and comments are always very welcome.


	5. Of School Mates and Gossip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying loyal to this story :D Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

  **Chapter Five**

** Of School Mates and Gossip **

 

Bye, Alfred.” Dick waved his hand at the old butler waiting patiently beside a sleek white Mercedes. _A Mercedes._ Dick still thought it was a little too much to bring him to school in a Mercedes. Not only did he have to deal with the looks the other kids gave him, but he also missed walking home with the late autumn breeze blowing in his face and the smell of wet earth around him. But of course, Bruce insisted on giving him a fifteen minute lecture on how going to school in a Mercedes would save them both a lot of trouble.

It all sounded perfectly reasonable coming from Bruce, but Dick still wanted to walk home from school once in a while. He loved how green and peaceful the area around Wayne Manor was. Sometimes, he would just sit in the Manor’s immense garden and watch the sky turn red as the sun began to set. It would be completely silent except for the chitter of birds and the occasional scuffle of small rodents in the undergrowth.

He missed living with Haly’s circus. He missed the consistent busy hustle of the circus he had grown up in, but all the same, he liked how Wayne Manor made the rest of the world feel so far away. It was almost as if the grounds in the manor themselves were trapped in time.

Dick tried not to venture too much into which time period exactly the mansion was trapped in. A small part of him told him that he didn’t really want to know, but what he did think about, quite often, actually, was that the manor was certainly beautiful if you looked in all the correct places. 

Maybe someday he would convince Bruce to take a walk with him.

Dick laughed a little sadly at that thought. _Maybe someday in a hundred years._

“Goodbye, Master Dick. I wish you a fine day at school.” Alfred said as Dick took a couple of steps away from the car. “Please do try to remember to eat your vegetables today, young sir.” He added with the smallest hint of a smile.

“Alright, alright. But only because you promised me that pie.” Dick was going to walk away, but something kept him.

“Oh, and Alfred…”

“Yes, Master Dick?”

Dick scuffled his feet slightly, suddenly more nervous than he had been in years. He was not sure how to say this. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say.

“How’s Bruce?” Dick blurted out awkwardly and felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He almost wanted to laugh at how silly he must have just sounded, but when he saw Alfred hesitate, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. 

“I’m afraid I could not tell you with much certainty, dear boy.” Alfred looked almost apologetic as he went on, “I hadn’t had an opportunity to speak to him yet. Master Bruce had left in quite a hurry this morning.”

“That’s alright, Al, you didn’t really have to. Thanks for bothering anyway.” Dick’s smile was sweet but Alfred still saw the anguish in his big blue eyes. Alfred thought, with much regret, about how familiar it was to see sadness in a young boy’s blue eyes. So, so familiar. Much too familiar.

“Please do not fret, young sir. I am certain that Master Bruce would always be reasonable.”

“I know…. But he’s not upset because of- because of _me_ , is he?” Stupid. Stupid, stupid. He knew what Alfred would say. Of _course_ , Alfred would say that Bruce wasn’t. He knew he didn’t even want to hear Alfred say it again, but he just had to ask.

Alfred looked at him for a long moment. He looked serious, more serious than he usually was. The old butler reached out a gloved hand and placed it firmly on the boy’s shoulder.

“No, Master Dick. He is not.”

Despite what he thought earlier, Dick did feel better. Much better.

_You’re just overreacting._ He told himself again. Alfred was probably right when he said that Bruce was often upset about all kinds of things. It’s stupid. He was just being stupid.

_But there was something in the way Bruce looked at me-_

Dick pushed it all the way to the back of his mind and smiled again. This time, it reached all the way up to his bright-blue eyes.

“Thanks, Al.” Dick leaned forward and gave the old butler a squeeze around his waist. “You’re the best.”

“I’m merely doing my job, sir.” Alfred replied in his usual polite manner, but Dick could hear the warmth behind it. It was almost as if Dick could _hear_ the smile in the old butler’s words.

Dick gave Alfred a last goodbye-smile, feeling much better than he did just moments ago. The Mercedes left the school grounds with an almost inaudible soft purr. A couple of passing students turned their heads to watch the expensive car drive off, although they didn’t even spare a glance at the dark-haired boy standing by himself.

Dick looked on as the car sped away until it disappeared around a bend in the road. Even then, he just stood there, staring at nothing in particular.

He suddenly felt very alone, despite all the other students around him. He wasn’t very sure what it was, but something unsettled him. For quite a long time, he allowed it to linger in his thoughts.

It was when he finally walked into the school’s main hallway that it finally dawned on him.

He knew it. For sure this time.

Alfred had lied.

 

* * *

 

Dick walked towards his locker, not really paying much attention to the other students around him. He weaved his way past two boys trying to play football with a crumpled ball of paper. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bigger of the two stumble and trip as he tried to catch their paper ball.

Dick barely managed to step aside as the boy fell crashing to the ground, although a boy with blonde hair who, by chance, was beside him was not as lucky.

“Ouch!” A startled shout was heard as both boys tumbled to the floor.

“Get off of me, you idiot!” The bigger boy muttered under his breath as he tried to shuffle back on his feet.

“Are you guys alright?” Dick asked as he stuck a hand out to help the boy on the floor up. The boy gladly took Dick’s hand and smiled gratefully at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

At his full height, the boy was at least a head taller than Dick was. Despite his height, he only looked to be about a year older than Dick. But then again, Dick had always been considered small for his age. Not only in height, but since he turned ten, his delicate frame became more and more distinguishable from the other boys his age. Perhaps that was why his mother had always called him her ‘little robin’.

“He was in my way.” It was obvious from the way he held one of his fists slightly away from his body that he was on the brink of punching someone in the face. Dick usually avoided conflicts during school, but this time, he stepped in front of the boy without actually giving it any thought.

Much to Dick’s relief, the boy seemed to reconsider his actions and relaxed his balled-up fist, because, honestly Dick wasn’t prepared for that kind of heat.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” The boy sneered a little more in Dick’s direction before he turned and walked away without another word.

Dick let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He knew he could have faced  him in a fight, and he was certain that he would even come out as the winner, but he wasn’t sure how it would affect everything else. He didn’t even want to begin thinking about how Bruce would have reacted.

“Don’t worry. He’s always a douche like that.” Dick heard the other boy say from behind him, startling him a little. Dick had nearly forgotten the boy was standing right behind him.

“Hey, what’s your name?” The blonde boy suddenly piped in, “I don’t think I ever saw you around here before. Are you new?”

“Yeah.” Dick looked up and smiled brightly, grateful for the distraction. “I’m Richard, but everyone calls me Dick.”

“I’m Danny. Nice to meet you, Dick.”

Danny reminded Dick a lot of someone he knew back at the circus. They used to be good friends, but after Dick left, he hadn’t heard from him since. Danny had the same short, dark-blonde hair and easy-go-lucky nature. It was hard not to like him.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Danny.” Dick said with a wide grin, when suddenly the school bells began ringing.

“Geez, I really thought we had a good ten minutes before first class. Will I be seeing you again anytime soon, Dick?”

“Well, sure. Maybe recess?”

“Alright. Catch you later.” Danny said as he waved Dick goodbye.

His locker was a little way from the main entrance. It was nearly empty except for the few spare notebooks and pencils he kept there. Every morning it had become something of a habit to stash his lunch and the textbooks he didn’t need into his locker.

He glanced at the schedule he had stuck on the inside. First class was Math.

Dick couldn’t suppress a weary sigh. Math. Of all the great ways to start a day, it had to be _Math_. To be honest, Dick loved Math. It’s just that Math _classes_ were nothing but boring. Boring and a huge pain in the neck.

_At least I didn’t forget to make my homework today._ Dick thought as he made his way to Math class. _Mr. Johnson will certainly call Bruce this time._

It wasn’t really about having Bruce find out that he didn’t make his homework that worried him. After all, if it came to that, Bruce would have known ages before Dick even came to Mr. Johnson’s class. It was just that Dick didn’t want to give Bruce any more trouble. He had probably already given Bruce much more trouble than he ever deserved. Dick just didn’t think he could face Bruce. It’s not that he _scared._ He’s not _afraid._ He’s just-

He didn’t know.  

Dick had tossed and turned idly for hours in bed the previous night. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that had clung onto him since they returned to the cave. He felt cold, despite being bundled up beneath a thick blanket, and his eyes felt dry like he was going to-

No, he’s not. He was stronger than that. He was Bruce’s brave soldier. He won’t cry. He. Would. Not. Cry.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t even close his eyes. Every time he did, he saw him. Saw him looking at him with that- with that _softness._ And then, he would feel the tears threaten to overwhelm him.

He was lonely. He had Mr. Peanut, his stuffed elephant, to keep him company, but he still felt so alone. He looked over at his door and thought about walking out of it, across the hall to where Bruce’s room would be. Was Bruce asleep? Was he even in his bedroom? What would it be like to knock on the heavy mahogany wood of Bruce’s door and ask him if he could stay there?

He had done it once before. And even then, for a moment, he was afraid for that Bruce would have turned him down and sent him back to his own room. Instead, he remembered how big and comforting Bruce’s hands felt. How small and safe he felt in Bruce’s arms.

That was all he had wanted that night. He wanted _Bruce_. But Bruce wasn’t there, and Bruce had been… had been so _angry_ the entire night. He couldn’t possibly disturb Bruce. Eventually, Dick fell asleep repeating the things Alfred told him. Again and again.

Really, the last thing he could possibly want was for Mr. Johnson to call Bruce to come to school because he didn’t do his homework. Just the thought made his insides twist.

“Good morning, class.” A loud voice startled Dick out of his daydreams. Mr. Johnson wore his trademark pale blue shirt and a distractingly colorful tie. He placed his phone and some papers on the teacher’s desk before turning to the class.

Mr. Johnson was famous for being an extremely strict and uptight teacher. No talking, no fun, no games, always submit homework on time and definitely no food during class.

“Good morning, Mr. Johnson.” The class answered back in a lazy, sort-of broken synchrony.

Even amidst the chorus of voices, Dick could still make out panicky shuffling of papers from one corner in the classroom and the rapid thumping of fingers deftly typing messages into phones, but the most distracting sound was his own tummy’s soft rumbling. He probably should have eaten some of the pancakes Alfred had made that morning.

Dick was suddenly reminded of the Snickers bar he had stashed in his pocket before he left the manor, and it became infinitely more difficult to pay attention to what Mr. Johnson was saying.

“I hope you had completed your homework, students.” Mr. Johnson said and raised an eyebrow at the kids who were desperately scrambling to finish.

“You know the rules. Those who didn’t do it, regardless their excuse, will get detention. And if you already have two strikes on your record, I’ll have to call your parents. Rules are rules, class. So don’t think you can make me make an exception.”

“Sir, excuse me.” Someone from the middle of the class raised his hand.

“Yes, Timmy.”

“I… Uh, I…” The boy was trying to look everywhere but Mr. Johnson’s face, before he swallowed and straightened up. “I wanted to do my homework, but I don’t know how.”

“Don’t give me that, Timmy. The homework assignment was to copy the questions from your textbook and solve them. Their answers and explanations can be found on the last page of your textbook. And even if you still didn’t know how to solve them, you could have asked me for help.”

“Well, you see… uh…”

“Timmy, this is the 4th time you didn’t do your homework this month. I’ll have to ask you to come and see me in my office during lunch break. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Timmy mumbled in defeat.

Mr. Johnson said something else, but Dick was far too busy trying (and failing) not to think about the Snickers bar in his pocket. His tummy rumbled again, a little louder this time. He _really_ should have eaten those pancakes.

“Dale, would you be so kind as to collect the homework?” Mr. Johnson turned to the boy closest to the teacher’s desk. Dale nodded in silence as he stood up and began going around the class.

Dale was on the other side of the classroom and Dick had given up his resolve to safe the Snickers bar for recess. He was simply too hungry and the Snickers bar was too tempting to resist. Besides, Dick was sitting at the side of the class and his hands were well hidden by his desk. Mr. Johnson wouldn’t catch him anyway.

Slowly, Dick pulled the chocolate bar from his pocket and tried to unwrap it with as little sound as possible. The boy to his right was doodling some cartoon character. Good, no one was looking in his direction.

With sure fingers, Dick pulled the wrapping off and quickly hid it beneath his desk. Mr. Johnson had his back facing the class as he wrote a couple of questions on the board, and Dale was waiting for a boy to find his homework sheet amidst a mess of other papers.

Dick tried to remember what Bruce had told him about being subtle in your actions. _Act nonchalant?_ Or was it: _do it as quick as possible when no one is looking?_ Truth was, Bruce hadn’t really taught him much about stealth yet. Ironically, Bruce _did_ teach him how to be unnoticeable in the dark or in the midst of a fight, but not around people in a public place as Dick Grayson.

The other thing Dick thought they spent way too much time on was practicing how to flee in desperate situations. For some reason, Bruce had always been very intent on telling Dick all the possible ways Batman could die and Robin would be left to his own devices to safe himself.

_Like that would ever happen._

Dick would have laughed if not for the way the class was so quiet. Mr. Johnson was scribbling Math questions almost fervently onto the board, seeing his chance, Dick brought the Snickers bar to his mouth as naturally as possible. He tried his best not to look around too much and just act relaxed. _No sudden jerky movements. No sudden jerky movements._

Suddenly, Mr. Johnson’s phone beeped twice. Dick quickly tried to hide the bar from Mr. Johnson, but, apparently, it wasn’t fast enough. Mr. Johnson had seen Dick moving his hands underneath the table.

“Richard.” He called, “Anything you’d like to show us?”

“I dropped my pencil, sir.” Dick said, forcing his smile to look reassuring instead of nervous or guilty. It seemed to have worked, because Mr. Johnson just nodded a little.

Dick sighed in relief. He got lucky. Dick could just imagine the kind of punishment he would have to endure if Mr. Johnson actually found out that he-

“He’s hiding a Snickers bar, sir.”

Dick’s eyes opened wide, and he whipped around to see who it was. It was the boy from that morning, the boy who crashed into Danny and almost started a fight. _Oh no._

“Richard? Is that true? Show me your hands.”

Dick sighed, there really was no point in lying anymore. He had never been very good at it anyway. For some reason, no matter how good or convincing his lie was, everybody always said his eyes betrayed it all. Maybe that was one of the reasons why Bruce insisted that Robin used a domino mask at all times.

“I’m sorry sir, I was just really hungry.”  

“Hungry or not, Richard, you know better than to disrespect class rules.”

“I won’t do it again, Mr. Johnson.” Dick tried again.

“You better not, for your own sake.” Mr. Johnson had his full attention on Dick now, wearing his best ‘scary face’. Mr. Johnson was probably hoping for Dick to glower in fear, but instead, Dick just smiled sheepishly. That seemed to make Mr. Johnson even more upset, because he marched across the classroom straight to Dick’s table.

“This isn’t your first offense, Mr. Grayson, and I find your actions and attitude very disrespectful. I’m afraid I’ll have to call your parents for a meeting after school. Wait in front of my office after your last class today and we’ll see what our meeting will conclude.”

An icy lump in Dick’s throat choked off whatever he was going to say. _What?! No, please don’t call Bruce. Anything but that!_

The realization that the number Dick had given them was Bruce’s private number didn't help in the last. He really should have thought better of it before he tried to eat during one of Mr. Johnson’s classes.

“I’m really sorry. I never meant any disrespect. Br-, I mean, my guardian is usually very busy on weekdays. I will not object if you give me detention or extra homework instead.” _This may be your last chance, Dick._

“Your _guardian?_ Well, we shall see. ” Without another word, Mr. Johnson went back to the whiteboard and continued writing, looking quite satisfied with himself.

Not many of Dick’s friends knew that Bruce _Wayne_ was his guardian. Dick just never really found it necessary to tell them. When they did find out, one way or the other, they would stare at him with disbelieving eyes for some time, then, they would suddenly treat Dick as if he’s their best friend all their lives.

_That_ or they would suddenly pretend he never even existed.

He sighed again. Why did school always have to be so… tiring? He would really much rather stay in the manor’s gym and do some routines. Dick tried to concentrate on whatever Mr. Johnson was explaining to the class, but all he could think about were all the ways he could prevent Mr. Johnson from making the call.

 

* * *

 

The next two hours were as mundane and monotonous as it got. Dick answered questions, took notes, listened to whatever his teachers were saying, but most of the time he was thinking about Mr. Johnson calling Bruce. The moment the bell rang, Dick hurried himself along the bustling corridors to Mr. Johnson’s office.

_What if he already called Bruce?_ Dick thought suddenly. He was almost entirely sure that Bruce’s contact number was written somewhere in his student records. He could still clearly remember being asked to write down a trusted phone number in case the school needed to call someone. And, of course, Dick had been dumb enough to give them _Bruce’s_ personal number instead of the one at the manor.

Mr. Johnson shouldn’t have all too many problems finding and calling Bruce.

Dick knew that Bruce wouldn’t be too angry about his transgression, but the _thought_ of having to face Bruce _at school_ with Mr. Johnson was almost unbearable.

Dick bit his lip and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” He heard Mr. Johnson’s sharp voice and Dick opened the door a little too fast.

Mr. Johnson was sitting at his desk, he had a mug of coffee next to him and a thick stack of papers directly in front of him. He looked at Dick with raised eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson. Did I interrupt anything?”

“No, no. Just grading some papers.” Mr. Johnson took a big sip from his mug before continuing, “Did you want anything?”

“Well, Mr. Johnson… I wanted to say that I’m really sorry about this morning.” He tried and smiled slightly. “I was just really hungry.” His smile grew even more sheepish. He had never done this before and he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

Dick watched Mr. Johnson carefully. _It’s working._ Dick thought to himself, and gave himself a slight pat on the back.

“If you would like, I can help around to make it up to you, Mr. Johnson. My guardian is really very busy these days.”

“You’re a good student, Richard.” Mr. Johnson finally said, and Dick felt a weight being lifted from his chest. “You don’t have to do anything for me. Don’t worry, I won’t call your guardian or give you detention. But I’ll still have to give you extra weekend homework to make it fair. Come to me during second break to take them.”

Dick must have been smiling from ear to ear. _God,_ was he relieved. Weekend homework was a piece of cake. He could probably finish in less than half an hour anyway.

“Just be sure to follow class rules next time, they’re there for a reason. And don’t forget you already have two strikes for late homework. One more and I won’t be as lenient.”

“You can count on me!” No way was he going to risk _that_ again. “Thanks a bunch, Mr. Johnson.” Dick said as goodbye with a genuine, happy smile this time.

“You’re welcome, Richard.”

Dick still had the smile plastered on his face as he made his way to the cafeteria. He was walking briskly when it dawned on him that all this wouldn’t have happened if the school never even had Bruce’s number. So maybe, if he somehow ‘replaced’ Bruce’s number in his student’s record with that of the manor’s…

Or better yet, with his _own_ phone number….

Yeah, he could definitely manage that.

But in the meantime, he was in desperate need for some food.

 

* * *

 

Dick had settled with sandwiches, saving Alfred’s lunch for the second break, he only had a little over 10 minutes before classes would start again.

“Want some?” Danny asked as he held a bag of chips in front of him.

“Sure.”

“So, watcha think of this place, Dick?” Danny asked as he continued rummaging in his huge bag of chips.

“It’s great! I especially like the cafeteria, their food is really good.” Dick answered before he took another mouthful of ham and cheese sandwich.

“Yeah, the food’s pretty good.  Though I think it gets kinda lame around here real quick.”

“Why is that?” Dick thought it was anything but lame. In addition to a tedious lesson plan, drama seemed to pop out of every corner on an almost daily basis. There was always something going on in this school, how could it be lame?

“Well, duh. Look around you.”

Dick actually looked around. Activity buzzed from every direction, but there was nothing remarkable. Danny almost laughed at Dick’s confusion.

“There are no _girls_ around.” Danny said matter-of-factly, gesturing at all the people in the cafeteria. “It’s an _all-boys_ school.”

Dick blinked back at Danny a couple of times. What did girls have to do with it? Danny saw his confusion again, and this time he really laughed.

“Oh, Dick!”

“What!?”

“You don’t go out much, do you?” Danny almost doubled-over as he continued laughing. Some boys from the table beside them even turned their heads to see what was so funny. Dick just blinked at them, then at Danny, then back at them. He still had no idea what Danny was trying to say.

“What-”

Danny suddenly stopped laughing and looked straight at Dick, all humor gone from his eyes.

“Dick, you do know what a ‘girlfriend’ means, right?”

Was there something going on that Dick should know but did not?

“Yeah. A female friend. Danny, I still don-”

Danny just stared at him. This was getting awkward really quick. There was _definitely_ something going on that he did not know about.

“You’re kidding right?”

“Huh?”

“Oh my God, Dick. You really don’t know!” Danny sat back and stared at him disbelievingly.

“Is there something I should know about?” Dick was burning with a hundred questions. What was it about girls here?

“Do you know what the big kids do when they go out with girls? I mean, what it _means_?” Danny was still staring at him as if he could not believe what he had just heard.

“What it _means?_ Uh... no?” Dick scrambled through everything he knew about girls. _What it means?_ What did that question even mean?

“Okay. Okay.” Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Do you know that men and women marry each other?”  

“Of course I do! But Danny, what does it have to do with anything?” Dick couldn’t hold it back any longer. _What_ could Danny possibly be talking about?

All of a sudden, Danny started laughing again. Louder than he did before

“I don’t see what’s so funny.” Dick said almost petulantly.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” Danny finally stopped and wiped away the tears that had welled up in his eyes.

“Well?” Dick pouted slightly. He _really, really_ wanted to know at that point.

“Firstly, I’m sorry for laughing. That was not very nice. Secondly, how is it possible for a guy like you not to know what a girlfriend-”

“Danny!” Dick’s frown grew deeper.

“Okay, okay! So a girlfriend is basically a girl,” Danny said slowly, “who is romantically involved with a boy, but they’re not married yet. You get that much?”

_Oh._ Now he knew what Danny was talking about. He just never knew they called it a ‘ _girlfriend’._ It was such a silly thing to call someone so special. He thought girlfriends were just the kind of girls men went out with to attend parties and social conventions, not the people they would actually marry and share the rest of their lives with.

It was just so... unlikely. People _always_ had more than just one or two girlfriends in the course of their lives, but surely it was not possible to have _that_ many people to marry? Dick thought that was a little weird. But he wasn’t entirely sure; he just knew that Bruce had a lot of girlfriends.

_Wait- Does that mean…_

“Oh, I know what that is.” Dick said and saw obvious relief wash over Danny’s features. “So, before you marry someone, they’re either your girlfriend or… boyfriend?”

“Well, yeah. If everything goes well, they will probably get married.”

Dick thought about the beautiful women Bruce would often go out with. Just this morning he briefly saw a headline saying: TIFFANY, SOCIALITE BRUCE WAYNE’S NEW GIRLFRIEND?He thought nothing much of it then, he saw things like that so often he mostly ignored them.

_No. Just, no. That can’t be right._ Dick felt heat rise up to his cheeks at the thought.

“So what if it does _not_ go well?” Dick blurted out before he even realized it. He did not like to think about Bruce with this… _Tiffany_.

Dick couldn’t help being reminded of his mom and dad. He  would always remember the way his mom and dad would look at each other every time they had finished a particularly hard routine. There was pride in his dad’s smile and delight in his mom’s gaze. There had also been love.

It made Dick happy back then. Life used to be so much simpler.

Dick almost felt nauseous at the thought of Bruce looking at Tiffany that way. It just- it just felt _wrong_. He had seen the parties Bruce Wayne attended, he had seen all the sparkling dresses and silver cutlery. He knew Bruce was just playing up the façade, at least to an extent… Or was he?

His palms tingled as he imagined what the next headlines would look like. ‘BRUCE WAYNE DECIDED TO MARRY TIFFANY.’ ‘BRUCE WAYNE AND TIFFANY NOW GOING TO BE HUSBAND AND WIFE’ ‘SOCIALITE BRUCE WAYNE FOUND LOVE OF HIS LIFE.’

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Well,” Danny interrupted his train of thought, “if they don’t get along they’ll break up. Usually, they’ll find another boyfriend or girlfriend after a while.”

_That sounds more familiar._ According to the papers, Bruce changed ‘girlfriends’ very often. Dick never asked him about them. He just thought they were female friends, like the name actually suggests. He didn’t- never would have _guessed_ a ‘girlfriend’ was someone you actually _loved._ Someone you would eventually marry.

But this… this _Tiffany._ Bruce _and_ Tiffany. Dick suddenly felt his earlier distress weigh down on him again.

“So that’s basically why this place gets lame after a while.” Danny continued his earlier rambling, ignorant of the way Dick had begun chewing on his lower lip anxiously. “I would really like to meet some girls sometime, you know. Maybe I can get myself a girlfriend. My big brother says having one is awesome. I never had one myself, so-”

The school bells cut him off.

“Never the luxury of time, huh?” Danny said as he stood up. “Guess that’s what school’s all about. Well, nice talking to you, Dick. Catch you around again sometime.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you around, Danny.” Dick said absently as Danny hurried off to wherever he was going. Other kids were rapidly flowing out of the cafeteria, too. A couple of kids lingered to exchange quick goodbyes before, eventually, they went off too.

Dick suddenly realized he’d just been standing there, staring at the emptying cafeteria.

Sighing to himself, he walked over to his locker to check his schedule. He should probably start worrying about the fact that classes would start any moment now, but all he could think about was Bruce. Bruce _and_ Tiffany.

_What does it mean?_ Dick had begun chewing his lower lip again. _Would Bruce much rather spent his time-_

Dick quickly chastised himself for thinking such senseless things. He usually knew better than to believe gossip.

_Why are you even thinking about this?_ He tried pushing everything out of his mind entirely. He _tried,_ but knowing how much his mom and dad had loved each other...

He was burning with curiosity and- and- something he couldn’t exactly place at the moment. He just knew that he _had_ to do something. Asking was out of the option.

_Definitely._

He was walking back to class in silence, almost sulking, when an idea struck him. It was a good idea, he was grinning to himself like an idiot at just the thought. Would it work?

Yes, he was almost entirely sure.

But the real question was: should he actually do it? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm sorry for introducing so many new characters, but don't worry, you'll see them again. :)


	6. Of Jocks and Billionaires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Bruce was up to while Dick was at school.

**Chapter Six**

**Of Jocks and Billionaires**

 

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! Look over here please.”

“Mr. Wayne, are the rumors about you and Tiffany true?”

"Where do you stand on the mayor’s latest speech about cutting charity funds?

“Hey, Mr. Wayne! Any comments on beautiful Tiffany Christensen’s claims that you two are dating now?”

The billionaire didn’t spare a glance at the bustling crowd of microphones and flashing cameras. As usual, Bruce Wayne didn’t have a hair out of place. His clothes were simple, almost casual even, with the top button of his shirt unbuttoned and a few loose strands of hair falling perfectly over his forehead. But still, he looked as imposing and untouchable as ever.

Photographers wrestled each other for a clear shot of the billionaire before he disappeared through the building’s secured doors. 

"Good morning Mr. Wayne. I’m Lisa, I’ll be your escort for today.” A smiling young woman greeted him at the front doors. It was obvious from her demeanor that she barely had her excitement in check. It wasn’t everyday that a regular employee could come up close and personal with the Prince of Gotham himself.

“Good morning, Lisa.” Bruce replied, and smiled charmingly. Most people couldn’t begin imagining just what that smile could do. At that moment, it just made Lisa’s head reel.

“The conference will be held on the 15th floor.” She said and she moved a little too close to Bruce to merely be polite. “But if you would like, I could give you a tour around first. Armand Electronics has an impressive collection of vintage gadgets from our early years. But if you’re more interested in some newer products, I could also show you our latest prototypes.”

“I would love that, but I don’t want to keep everyone waiting.  Is Lucius Fox here yet?”

“Yes.” The young lady looked pointedly disappointed, “He’s waiting for you upstairs. Would you like me to take you to there?”

“Gladly. Thank you, Lisa.”

The conference room was the biggest and most extravagant the company had. A little too big actually, for just the 15 people that were participating. At the first sight of their guest star, the men inside quickly shuffled to their feet to greet him.

“Bruce! Glad you could make it.” Lucius called out in greeting, smiling heartily. “On time, that is.” He added only for Bruce to hear.

“I didn’t have anything else planned today. I thought I might as well come.” Bruce said and smiled another one of his famed smiles.

It wasn’t often that Bruce Wayne came to conferences, on time or not. Sometimes he would simply ‘forget’ about them or conveniently be needed elsewhere. Lucius had gotten used to his employer’s unreliable schedule, but it was still a relief to actually have him show up for a change.

“We don’t want to make this longer for you, Mr. Wayne.” The chairman said. “Would you like us to begin?”

“When you’re ready.”

Lucius watched as his employer seated himself in the biggest chair reserved just for him. Despite being accustomed to Bruce’s nonchalant and carefree lifestyle, Lucius was barely able to repress a sigh as Bruce leaned back in his chair with an overly obvious _bored_ expression. 

“Good morning gentlemen. I’m Evan O’Connell from the sales department. Today I would be presenting about some of Armand Electronics’ newest, and best, products.” The speaker began a little nervously, “But before I begin, I would like to thank our guest star, Bruce Wayne, for coming this morning. Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

Evan O’Connell was a big man, nearly as big as Bruce, he looked liked an athlete more than anything else. Lucius thought that it was almost funny to see a man like him smile nervously, _timidly_ even, at Bruce. But then again, Bruce Wayne was a very wealthy, very powerful and essentially very intimidating man. And Bruce had always made sure that nobody would ever forget exactly who he was.

It got funnier still when Lucius noticed that O’Connell would anxiously glance at Bruce every thirty seconds.

Lucius was busy scribbling notes in his little book when he thought something was off. Bruce was uncharacteristically quiet that day. On the rare occasions that he would come, he was usually very meticulous in his demands.

It was strange. Bruce would certainly have commented on that ambiguous mention of their distributors. Lucius still had his head over his notes when he heard a distinct hitch in O’Connell’s voice when he sneaked another glance at Bruce. 

Lucius knew what that meant. Embarrassingly, it had happened before.

Bruce had fallen _asleep._

Lucius quickly snapped up and shot a look at his employer. But no. He wasn’t asleep. Far from it. His eyes were wide open, not a hint of drowsiness in them. His eyes were hard and focused as they looked at Evan O’Connell. _No,_ that wasn’t right.

Bruce wasn’t just looking at him. Bruce was _glaring_ at him.

Lucius felt a chill run down his spine at the sheer ice in his employer’s eyes. He never quite saw Bruce like that. In fact, he never quite saw so much contempt in _anyone’s_ eyes.

“Bruce?” Lucius whispered. The billionaire’s sudden transition was almost frightening. In an instant, his dark blue eyes cleared and it was back to his usual absentminded flourish. He even had that goddamned smile again.

“What is it, Lucius?”

What was it, really? Now that he had Bruce’s attention, Lucius wasn’t sure what he should say anymore.

“I- I just wanted to know what you think about their offer. I think it’s quite convincing.”

“You think so, Lucius? I thought their distributors raise many questions. We shouldn’t rush into this.”

“Right.” This was almost awkward. “Were you alright just then? Something… wrong?”

“Huh?” The handsome billionaire looked back at him in confusion. “What was it Lucius?”

“You looked- uh… distraught.”

“Oh, must be the hangover I have from last night. It’s still quite early in the morning, you see.”

“Of course! I understand. Last night must have been quite some night.”

“Tell me about it.” Bruce said in his usual deep and sultry voice, Bruce even proceeded to wink at him. If Lucius was a born a girl, he was certain his heart would have skipped a beat.

Very hesitantly, Lucius went back to his notes. He told himself that he must have been seeing things. It was just like Bruce to get drunk with another one of his beautiful girlfriends. Wild, late-night parties were nothing new in socialite Bruce Wayne’s life.

Lucius thought he knew his employer well, but now that he gave it some thought, Lucius realized that a big part of what he knew about Bruce came from gossip tabloids. The billionaire almost never talked about himself, but Lucius didn’t want to poke his nose into other people’s lives so he never really asked.

For some reason, the realization was unnerving.

But there was _one_ thing Lucius knew that the tabloids didn’t. Very recently Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, heir of the Wayne’s vast fortune, had taken in a young, orphaned boy. Somehow Bruce managed to keep this from the gossip-sharks.

Then again, Lucius only came to know merely because Bruce needed him to sign a couple of legal adoption papers. He wouldn’t judge. It was hardly his problem. But Lucius saw the files; he saw the boy’s pictures. He was so young, so naïve. And Bruce was hardly the appropriate father figure a boy like that needed.

But Lucius knew better than to judge.

Just then, Evan came to his presentation’s end.

“We’ll have a short break before we continue with our next presentation.”  The chairman announced. “Mr. Wayne, I hope you saw potential in our products.”

“I certainly did.” He said smoothly, but then turned to the retreating form of Evan O’Connell.

“Excuse me, sir.” Bruce’s deep, clear voice cut through the room the moment O’Connell placed his hand on the door handle.

“Y-yes, Mr. Wayne?” This time his smile was more than just nervous. O’Connell looked almost scared.

“I’m quite sorry, but what was your name again? This happens to me way too often.” Bruce chuckled slightly. “Sometimes names just slip by me. Was it O’Connell? As in Jerry O’Connell?”

Bruce seemed to be in a very pleasant mood despite his hangover.

“That’s right, Mr. Wayne.”

“Well, you did a very good job there, Mr. O’Connell.”

“T-thank you. I uh- need to get a couple files. Excuse me.”

“Don’t let me keep you.”

O’Connell exited hastily. He seemed to be more than a little anxious to leave the room.

“Please forgive him, Mr. Wayne.” The chairman spoke again. “Mr. O’Connell is an excellent employee, but he’s prone to get stage fright from time to time.”

“Oh, I understand. It takes time to get used to an audience.”

“Anyhow, would you like something to drink, Mr. Wayne? We have just started a new campaign that promotes our employees’ health. We have some very excellent hot chocolate if you’d like.”

Bruce laughed in his usual charming self. “Sure, why not. I would have asked for coffee, but apparently, they only make hangovers worse.”

Almost immediately, a girl came to place a mug in front of Bruce. Lucius could see the other men and women helping themselves at a counter across the room. He didn’t really want anything, so he decided to sit and listen.

“I heard that last night was quite the night, Mr. Wayne. It’s a pity that I hadn’t been able to make it, my son just came back from his internship in Europe.”

“Europe? Great place. Just came back from a vacation in Paris a couple of weeks ago myself. Is your son planning to follow in his father’s footsteps?”

“I hope he would.” The chairman leaned in with renewed interest. Lucius figured that he was the kind of person who wouldn’t shut up about their children. “I could see that he has a knack for business. He would make a great addition to Armand Electronics. But you know the youth of today, Mr. Wayne. Only concerned with trivial things.”

Bruce quirked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, twirling a fountain pen between his fingers.

“If only that boy would listen to what I keep telling him. But I guess boys will be boys. He’s head over heels in love with a girl he met in Europe. Can’t seem to think about anything else. I love that boy to death, but I swear he’s going to be the death of me someday.”

Bruce laughed again, but he still didn’t say anything. Lucius wondered what went through his employer’s mind. He never wanted to know what Bruce really did every time he called in absent, or what his life was like outside the spotlight. Lucius never even questioned his employer’s regularly changing girlfriends. But since Bruce took in the orphaned boy, young enough to still have the soft chubbiness of childhood around his cheeks, he began wondering.

How could Bruce Wayne manage to raise a child as the carefree playboy that he was? Lucius couldn’t imagine. Didn’t really want to, but he really did wonder.

Bruce picked up the mug from its saucer and eyed it for some time. He stared at the sweet, dark brown liquid, his blue eyes unusually somber. At first Lucius thought there was something wrong with it. Bruce Wayne was very rich and used to the lavish luxuries money could afford. God knew how much money he spent on just his lunch every day.

After a while, Bruce took a sip, no tentative sniffing whatsoever. The chairman continued talking, but Bruce’s gaze was miles away.

For the second time that day, Lucius thought there was something off. This time he was sure it wasn’t anything a hangover would cause. 

Lucius didn’t want to pry into other people’s lives, but he thought Bruce looked at his hot chocolate for just a second too long.

 

* * *

 

Dick felt his muscles tingle with the same buzzing thrill of adrenaline, of _danger_. It was familiar. And it’s part of why he loved being Robin. Only this time, he wasn’t in costume. He didn’t have a mask to cover his face or a convenient pocketful of smoke pellets in case things got too hairy.

Dick was in his uniform. His uncomfortably stiff _school_ uniform that must have left all kinds of traces if somebody were to look for them. Protecting his identity was out of the question. He had his name embroidered in bold, clear letters on the right side of his chest. Not even the dimmest of people would miss the RICHARD GRAYSON that just screamed _look at me, look at me._

So Dick honestly didn’t have the faintest idea what he would do if anyone were to find him.

Dick felt before he heard the presence of somebody quickly approaching his hiding spot. He held his breath, because frankly, his hiding spot barely qualified as a hiding spot. Anyone who just happened to glance upwards would have immediately seen a school boy, still immaculately dressed with vest and tie and Alfred’s shined up shoes, supporting himself from the ceiling with just his hands and feet. In fact, it was virtually impossible to miss anything in such a narrow hallway.

This was ridiculous. So, so _stupid._ He could already hear all the things Bruce would berate him for if he knew of this… stunt. He should have planned it out first. Studied the area and all the possible threats. The escape routes. How many people there were. The air vents. But he didn’t have any _time._ If he stayed at the school yard two seconds longer he could kiss his plan goodbye and wait until Monday. And waiting just a day longer would have driven him crazy.

Dick barely had a plan, but just three minutes after lunch period started, he already saw Hugo towering above the crowd of kids. He would have easily spotted Dick, and he didn't look happy in the least. Dick had promised to meet Hugo at the cafeteria, but with all the other things that went wrong that day, Hugo just slipped out of his mind. Hugo was prone to overreact and he always got so upset if he caught Dick sharing lunch with somebody else.

Dick had to decide fast. It was either eating with a bad-tempered Hugo eyeing Dick indignantly all through lunch period or jumping through the window Dick knew led to teacher’s quarters. One last look at Hugo, who had just grabbed hold of a kid he mistook for Dick, and Dick was flying through the window already.

Now he was here, up at the ceiling, with not more than twenty minutes before lunch period was over, and Ms. Robinson was less than four feet below him.  Dick made to inch forward as quietly as he could, but the fabric of his uniform made rustling noises at even the slightest twitch of his muscles. Ms. Robinson stilled abruptly and craned to look at the ceiling. _Right_ where Dick was.  But nobody was there. Ms. Robinson glanced about her again until she finally dismissed it.

Dick was crouching right beside the door, hidden in plain sight, his head was humming with just how _ridiculously_ _close_ that was. _Thank God_ for that one lesson with Bruce about how humans are programmed to notice only specific things.

He really, really needed some kind of strategy. Right now the only thing he had to go on was: _make it to the records room and make sure nobody sees you._

Ms. Robinson’s footsteps faded and he quickly made for the door that opened to the teacher lounge. Anywhere was better than this barren hallway with completely _no_ hiding spots. He clambered back up to the ceiling and squeezed himself into the tiny space above the door frame. Now he just had to wait.

Soon enough, the door creaked open and a lower-primary teacher whose name he did not know appeared. He made his move. Every fraction of a second was crucial and this was _absolutely crazy._ Before the teacher turned around to shut the door, Dick quietly dropped down and quickly ducked out of her line of sight.

He made it safely behind the door before anyone spotted him. The teachers surely wouldn't take a stray student snooping about the office kindly. Attention was the last thing he needed.

Wasting no time, Dick made for the record room. Many teachers were off for their break, but most were still busily occupied at their work stations, although they were too absorbed to notice the peculiar flicker of shadows. 

Dick risked a glance about the room to make sure nobody was looking in his direction. This would be the trickiest part. As silently as the door’s hinges could manage, Dick slipped open the record room’s door. _I must be crazy._ If someone were to catch him now they surely would question how he managed to get so far without anybody seeing him.

Another thing to feel bad about: _Always have a cover story._ And, of course, he didn't have the slightest idea how to begin.

Once inside, Dick bit down on his lip, waiting for someone to call out. Surely _somebody_ must have noticed a door opening by itself. He remained like that for a whole minute, but nothing came. He released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. _I can’t believe I made it._

Dick quickly searched through all the student files to find one that spelled out: Richard J. Grayson. The rush of adrenaline somewhat receded as he deftly flipped through the pages.

And yes. Below the inquiry ‘trusted contact number’ he found Bruce’s name and number written in Dick’s own hand. He still did not know what made him think giving Bruce’s private number was a good idea. Bruce had especially told him that this number was only known to Alfred and himself, and it was only to be used in case of emergencies. And by ‘emergencies’ Dick almost certainly knew that Bruce had meant the sort of emergencies that concerned their nocturnal occupation.

Dick took a bottle of correction fluid out of his pocket and made to whisk out the incriminating information, only to stop his hand mid-air. _What in the world?_

 _That_ was in _no_ way Bruce’s number. Dick knew the Manor’s and all of Bruce’s numbers by heart. This was none of them. He scrutinized the somewhat messy handwriting that was undoubtedly his own. Had he accidentally written the circus’ number? Dick also knew that by heart. _That_ wasn't any number he knew. _What is going on?_

Could he really have written a random number on his student record? Dick blinked distractedly a couple more times before finally deciding that he should probably try calling it. He scribbled the unknown number on the palm of his hand because, despite how Bruce could memorize an entire page with just one glance, Dick still didn't have photographic memory.

He quickly snooped out of the teacher’s lounge. Most of the teachers were still on their break, so it wasn't all too hard. Once or twice a teacher glanced around oddly, but they never really suspected anything.

Dick was smiling like an idiot to himself when he made it back to the schoolyard completely unnoticed. Partly, Dick wanted to tell Bruce that he managed what he just did, but a bigger part of him told him that Bruce would just see it as recklessness. And Dick was sorely reminded that Bruce was in no mood to even speak to Dick.

Dick scanned the school yard, but Hugo was nowhere in sight. He must have given up his search. The big football team captain was never the patient type. Dick guessed that after 5 minutes of futile searching, Hugo must have stormed back to the Highschool next door. Dick honestly felt a little bad for that. He should have at least told Hugo, but he had _forgotten_ and Hugo was _not_ the understanding type either. Dick would have to think of a way to make it up to him. Maybe Dick should finally come to see Hugo on one of his football practice matches. Hugo had been asking Dick for weeks now, but Dick simply didn’t have time to spare, what with his training and Alfred’s very strict curfew. Dick honestly wanted to come. He’d never been to any football matches before, and Hugo did make it sound very exciting.

Thoughts about football matches were quickly replaced. The number on his hand felt like it was _burning_ his skin. There was only 10 minutes left, not enough time to go find Hugo anyway. Eating his lunch would also take more than 10 minutes.

What Dick really wanted was to make a phone call. And it just felt _safer_ to call from school instead of the manor. If Bruce noticed….

But it wasn’t as if Dick could hide anything from him.

The lady at the front desk was too busy texting to see Dick, even when he tried getting her attention with a loud “excuse me”.  Giving up, Dick decided to go for the phones without her permission.

Dick held his breath as he heard the call connecting. Maybe this was just one of Bruce’s many cell phone numbers. He could’ve just forgotten. No, that was impossible. Although he didn’t exactly have a photographic memory, Dick knew of his memorizing capabilities. And he was sure he _never_ saw this number before.

 _So whose is this_? Alfred’s? No. The Manor’s? Nope. The circus? Nada. _The pizza place_? Now he was just being crazy.

Then suddenly Dick heard, “Hello?”

Panic ensued. His mind just went blank for a second too long. Somebody said hello. Somebody replied. This is a valid number. It wasn’t random. _But who is it then. Bruce?_

“Bruce?”

“I’m sorry, sir. May I know who I am speaking with?”

Dick calmed down enough to pay attention. But that just made him realize that it’s a _woman’s_ voice. He panicked again. _It’s a woman. SO NOT Bruce._

“I-I’m Dick.” Dick swallowed hard, “I-uh-I live at the manor. The- the manor Bruce also lives in? Uh- I- uh-”

Awkward silence. Dick was certain the woman would hang up. She probably thought he was some sort of lunatic. _Then it must be a random number._ _How could I have written a random number on my records?_

“Ah! Mr. Grayson!”

 Now Dick was really, really confused.

“You _know my name?_ ”

“Yes, Mr. Grayson, I’ve been fully informed of your whereabouts. You’re speaking to Mr. Wayne’s personal secretary. How may I help you?”

_Oooooh._

“Can I speak to Bru- er- Mr. Wayne?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Grayson, but Mr. Wayne is not in his office at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Uh. No. That’s fine. Thank you. Very much.” Dick had to wince at how awkward he must’ve sounded.

“My pleasure. Have a good day, sir.” And the line disconnected.

Dick stared ahead of him for a minute. That made a lot of sense. Bruce’s secretary. _Of course._ He should have thought of that.

 _But how in the world did it end up in my records?_ He was convinced he didn’t write that. He had written Bruce’s emergency number instead. He remembered it because it was embarrassing.

_Somebody changed it?_

Then the pieces fell into place, and it made perfect sense. _Bruce_. He felt a little stupid at first, but he couldn’t repress the smile that blossomed on his lips.

Of course he did.

_Thanks Bruce._

 And for the first time that day, Dick didn’t feel quite as lonely.

 

* * *

 

Students streamed out of the school building as the school bells rang. Earlier, Dick had managed to find an empty slot in his schedule to eat his lunch. He had been hungry enough to even eat all of his vegetables without a second thought.

 _I hope Alfred would make banana cream pie._ Dick smiled to himself as he walked to the main entrance. The shiny Mercedes should be parked somewhere at the front already, Alfred _always_ came early.  

“Dick!” Dick suddenly felt a hand close around his small wrist and pull him aside roughly, “Where were you? I was looking for you.”

“Oh. Hugo.” Dick turned to look up at the football captain frowning down at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I had to do something first.” The bigger boy’s eyes shone with a mix of worry and anger. He opened his mouth to say something, but Dick interrupted him.

“I know I promised. So can I make it up to you?” Dick smiled hopefully up at the bigger boy. “How about one those football practice matches you wanted to take me to? They start directly after classes end, don’t they? If you’d give me a moment, I could go with you right now.”

Hugo just frowned more. “But where _were_ you? You weren’t with that damned Kevin were you?”

“Kevin? Really, Hugo, I don’t even know who that is.” _Kevin? Is he one of the guys from my grade? Or is he in Hugo’s football team?_

“Never mind. But if you ever meet a Kevin, don’t EVER go ANYWHERE near him. Do you get that, Dick?”

Dick felt Hugo’s hands tighten around his wrist, and he had to look away. Dick knew well enough how to break out of Hugo’s grip, but he didn’t want to upset him further. And Dick certainly didn’t like the way Hugo was looking at him.

“Let go, Hugo. I don’t know what you have against Kevin, but you’re hurting me.” Dick knew Hugo was a good guy despite his volatile temper, but that didn’t mean Dick liked it when Hugo was like this.

For a second, Hugo looked sorry but then he seemed to get a hold of himself and tightened his grip even more.

“Then you shouldn’t have ditched me.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. But it wasn’t _that_ important was it?”

“But you still _ditched me.”_

That’s it. Hugo was being completely unreasonable. Dick used his free hand to hit Hugo’s elbow and twisted his wrist free. Dick knew it didn’t hurt, but Hugo looked like he was hurt in so many other ways than just because of his elbow. The hurt quickly turned to anger.

“Dick.” And Hugo paused, swallowing hard. He was a popular kid and was used to getting what he wanted. Hugo made to grab for Dick’s shoulder, but Dick was fast and ducked away.

“Hugo, I’m sorry. Can we please just forget about it?”

Hugo looked as if he was about to burst a vein and Dick honestly felt quite guilty. He _did_ promise after all. Suddenly, Hugo slammed his palms onto Dick’s chest and shoved forcefully. Dick crashed down onto the concrete ground, too startled to do anything about it. With the air knocked out of him, all Dick could do was stare up at Hugo wide-eyed.

“You promised, Dick.” Hugo was breathing hard and his voice cracked with the strain. It was then that Dick realized that it was _so much more_ than just forgetting lunch. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it made Dick feel worse about himself.

Dick scrambled to his feet, but Hugo crouched down beside him and shoved him back down.  Much rougher this time, and he kept his hand pressed on Dick’s chest.

“Dick.” Hugo almost yelled, “I-”

“Mr. O’Connell,” A deep, almost stormy voice interrupted Hugo’s tantrum. “I see you’ve found my ward.” It was smooth as silk, as nonchalant as ever, but there was a growl in it. Dark and very displeased.

“Who-” Hugo spun around, face still flushed from his exertion, only to come less than 10 inches away from dark blue eyes intense enough to make anyone wince.

“Hugo O’Connell, am I right? I’m Bruce Wayne if you don’t already know.” Then the most disturbing thing happened. Bruce smiled. Not the usual plastic smiles Dick was used to. This smile was vexing, wrong, _dangerous_. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

Hugo turned to look at Dick, still sprawled on the ground, then back at Bruce who easily towered over the Highschool jock. He had to swallow to finally speak again, eyeing Bruce unsurely the whole time.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know your father. In fact, I just met him earlier this morning.” Again, that same unnerving smile, much too kind for the ice in his eyes.

“And Dick’s your w- _ward_?”

“Ah yes.” The smile disappeared. “I was waiting for Dick at the main entrance, but he was nowhere in sight. It seems you have been thoughtful enough to go and find him for me.”

Hugo stepped back from Bruce, glancing at Dick uncertainly.

“Are you one of Dick’s friends, Hugo?”

Dick knew that voice, and Dick knew that shift in his eyes. _Oh God._

“Bruce.” Dick tried. Bruce’s gaze remained fixed on Hugo’s, and Dick could see Hugo’s hands begin to tremble.

“Yes, he’s my friend, Bruce. We were just fooling around.” Dick walked over to Bruce, but Bruce paid no heed to him.

“Look here, mister.” Hugo’s voice cracked again, and this time it wasn’t because of anger. “You misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand?” And there was genuine confusion in his question, but Dick knew from the darkening in his eyes that Bruce knew _exactly_ what was going on. “Misunderstand what?”

“I was uh-”Hugo took another step back, and Dick really had to do something.

“Bruce?” This time Dick took hold of Bruce’s hand and tugged gently. “Hugo is my friend, Bruce. I told you about him, we usually share lunch together.”

Bruce finally turned to look at Dick. They just stared at each other for a good ten seconds. Dick was not sure what happened but Bruce turned back at Hugo, and something in the way Bruce looked at him made Hugo blink in fear and choke back a sob.

“Bruce, he’s my friend.”

Bruce looked at Dick again. He _really_ looked. Dick thought he saw a question within those dark eyes.

Then disturbingly sudden, Bruce smiled at Hugo. This time Bruce’s smile was pleasant, carefree, coy, _fake._ It was as if nothing had happened. Dick couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or even more anxious.

“Well, I guess we’d better get going. Good day, Mr. O'Connell.” Bruce smiled charmingly at the football captain. “It’s nice to know Dick has such nice friends.”

And they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally you guys get to hear something of the Highschool boy I mentioned in chapter 2! :D  
> So what'd think? Please tell me what you felt about it!


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